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Canadian  Inttituta  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  ci^anadien  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notas  tachniiqiMs  et  bibliographiqiMi 


The  Institute  has  attemfited  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  uniqi|ie,  which  may  alter  any 
of  the  images  in  the.reproducti<{n»  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming,  ara^ 
checked  ba|ow.  ,L 


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Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/  / 

Couverture  endommagte 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
douverture  restaurie  et/oy  pelliculte 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  rtiaps/V 

Cai;:tes  gtegraphiques  an  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  Mack)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  Meue  ou  noire) 

enured  plates  and/dr  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 


"yj  Tight  binding  may  causa  shadows  or  distortion 

.^Li^long  interior  margin/  \ 

'tS^  reliure  serrte  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  Vt  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may  appear 
witfiin  the^text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  <from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  quel  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouttef 
tors  d'une  res^uration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  itait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  M  f  ilmtes. 


D 


L'Institut  a  microf  ilmi  le  meilleur  exempl«ire  qu'il 
lui  a  M  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet 
exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-4tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue 
btbliographkiue,  qui  peuvent  modifwr  une  image 
/aproduitf,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification   <. 
dans  la  mMiode  qormale  de  f  ilmage  sont  indiquis 
'  ei-deuom:  .„     .   ,     ' 

□  Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur  > 

■■.■■...•■/ 

□  Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endomihagtes 

□  Pages  rpHored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restiuries  et/ou  pellicultes 

■■■.<•  » 

0  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dteolories.  tachetto  ou  piquees 

□  Pages  detached/  _  -^ 

Pages  di&tachtes 

0Showthroiigh/  . 
Transparence 

*\  ■■'  '  ■ 

□  Quality  of  print  varies/    y 
Qualite  in^le  de  I'impression 

0  Continuous  pegina^ion/  ^ 

Pagination  continue 


D 


Includes  index(es)/ 
Comprend  un  (des)  index 

Title  on  header  taken  from:/ 
Le  titre  de  I'en-tite  provient: 


□  Title  page  of  issue 
Page  de  titre  de  la 


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livraison 


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Caption  of  issue/ 

Titrede  d^rt  de  fi  livraison 

Masthead/ 

Ginerique  (piriodiques)  de  la  livraison% 


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1  Commentaires  supplimentaires:                                               ' 

This  item  is  filmed  et  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  uux  de  reduction  indiqu*  ci-dessou|^^^ 

lOX                              UX                              18X    -y0f^^f^' 

71% 

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Tl^a  copy  filrhtd  fi«r«  ha*  b—n  raproductd  thanks 
to  tho  gonorotity  of: 

Soclete  du  Itasqe 

du  Sorinaf  re  de  Quebec 

...  •.»'■■ 

Tho  imogM  appoaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality     ' 
po••ibla^«onsidaring  tha  eohiiition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  Icaapingwith.tha  ' 
filmifig  contract  apacifi(Bationa. , 

■  ■  ■>''^--     ■-•    '    ''  '  ■■■      '■'  ■.,■■■ 

Original  eppias  in  printad  papiar  covars  ara'fllmad 
baginning  With  tha  front  covIk  and  anding  on   • 
tha  last  paga  vvith  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
sion.  or  tha  back  covaf  whaniippropriata.  All  ' 
othar  original  copias  ara  filliiad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  dr  illuatratad  impraa> 
aion^  and  anding  on  thf  lait  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  impraasion, 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aaieh  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  — ^  (maaning  "CON- 
UNUED").  or  tha  symbol, y  (maaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appliaa.  v 


\ 


.  L'axamplaira  f  ilmi  f  ut  raproduit  grist  i  la 
giniftrcsitA  da:    I  i.  ■■* 

/    .  ..'■■'■'■  ■■'     '  ,-**,.....  ■■  ■•:  ■■' 

Soclete  4|u  Nusee  ''    ■"*' 

du  Sorinbire  de  Quebec 

/  .    •"  ■ '  ■,       •      .■  ■ 

Las  inntagas  suivsntas  ont  «t«  raproduites  ivec  Is 
plus  0rsnd  soln.  compta  tenu  da  la  condition  e't 
da  la  nattat*  da  I'axamplaira  film«.  at  9n 
6onformit4  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

.  Las  axamplairas  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  en 
papiar  ast  ImprimAa  sont  filmAs  an  commanpaht 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  f  n  tarminant  soH  par  la 
darniira  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainte 
d'imprasslon  ou  d'iilustration,  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  las  autras«axamplaires 
originaux  sont  fflmAs  an  commoncant  par  If  :\» 
pramiAra  paga  1||U^comporta  unfTimprainta . 
d'imprasslon  ou. d'iilustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnlAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  taila 
amprainta. 

Un  das  symbolas  suivants  spparaftra  sur  la 
darniira  image  da  chaqi^a  microficha.  salon  la 
cas:  If  symbols  «^  sigriifia  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
symbols  V  signifia  I'FIN"^, 


Maps,  platas.  charts,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axposura  ara  filmad 
bOginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  comar.  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  framas  as 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  iilustrata  tha 
mathod:  ^ 


Las  cartas,  planchas.  tableaux,  ate.  pauvant  Atr» 
filmto  A  das  taux  da  reduction  diflArsnts. 
Lorsqua  la  document  ast  trap  grand  pour  Atra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clicM.  il  ast  film*  A  partir 
da  i'angia  supAriaur  gauche,  da  gaucha  A  d'oite. 
at  da  haut  •*%  bas.  •n  pranant  la  nombre'  ' 
d'imagas  nAcassaira.  Las  diagramnfas  suivants   , 
illustrant  la  mAthoda. 


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ii5.  '■,\T.^-s.,prE.-sir^'.V'^  ' 

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THE  ESCAPED  MJI  • 


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OB. 


DISCLOSURES  OF  CONVENT  LIFE 


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A>]> 


^  ^  .„, _«__^.. 


X   ,,fr.. 


THE  CONFESSIONS 


or  A 


:-| 


SISTER  OF  CHAEltt. 

GIVINOAMORK    MINUTE  DETAIL   OF   TBEIE   INnEE  LIFE,  AKD  A  BOLDER 

hevelation  of  ti^s  mmj^eries  and  secrets  or  nunneries, 

.     THAS  HATE    EVER    bIfORE    BEEN    SUBMITTED   TO 
*  »     THE    AMSRieA»,rUBLIC,   '■ 


^-     .'•' 


^*'-'' 


I*- 


NEW   YORK:      •      ^ 
PBWITT  jk  BAVBKPORT,  PtJ^BLllfiBRS, 

160  A  102  NASSAU  STBEET. 


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EMTptDaeeordiiirtoAetof  Caiigi«a,inth«ye>rI86{,br 

DBWITT  4  Da'vENPORT, 

i«  (lie  ClOTlfi  OUm  of  the  C.  S.  Dbtriet  Court,  for  the  Soothen  DJitriot  of  New  York. 


/ 


*'•* 


:&!■■' 


W.  H.  TuMK,  Sleno^p^r.        TAWi,  Rtmux  A  Co,  Priaten.        G.  W.  Aimxaxw^O^. 


'  /T-  '"^J 


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RESPECTFULLt   DEDICATED 


TO 


THE    P5l  OTE  ST  ANT 


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A^lMEEICA 


IT 


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itiltnt  StxHnt. 


THE  AUTHQ 


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PBEFA.GE. 


./■• 


Eluoidatioi^s  of  facts,  respecting  the  interior  life  and 
practices  of  tho^  mysterious  establishments  called  Nunneries 
or  Convents,  a^e  of  the  utmost  importance  toj||  Protest- 
apta  of  America  at  this  j^icular  time,  becauSnow  the 
struggle  to  estabjish  thege  and  other  remnants  of  the  dark 
ages  in  America  is  going  on;  therefore  the  publiH^ttention 
is  called  to  the^^  and  any  information  is  anxiously  ^ught 
which  will  throw  light  upon  the  subject.  /\ 

In  view  of  this  laudable .  curiosity  as  to  the  true  nature  of 
the  dark  abodes  called  Convents,  and  for  the  purpose  of"^ 
warning  parents  and  guardians  against  the  wiles  and  cunning 
ways  of  Jesuits,  the  Author  has  given  her  own  actual 
experiencej  as  weU  as  ooUected  and  put  together  the  mass  of 
testimony  and  reliable  infonnation  set  forth  in  thi^  volume. 


-*„ 


-n  •  v?A  iTBt-j  , 


± 


> 


Ti 


Preface, 


My  sole  design  in  publishing  this  book  is  to  accomplish 
much  good,  bj  effecting  the  olgecta. above  named;  and  if  I 
am  successful  in  so  doing,  I  shall  consider  ipyself  weU 
rewarded  for  the  e^nse,  pains,  and  trouble  I  harp  experi- 
enoed  in  its  preparation  for  the  press.  .  ' 

The  public's  obedient  servant, 

The  Authoe. 


J 


■•<        •;' 


■■V- 


GOTTEN  T  S. 


■V 


OHAPTo^B  I. 

The  CBusea  of  my  PerTersion  to  Romanism— The  Italian  Teacher— The  Poison 
Infkued— The  Bird  and  the  Snake— The  Convent  of  St.  ******— Th*  Arch- 
bishop—The  Trap.        "  .,        .  .  .  .  ,  .  .'     fi 

^        CHAPTER  U. 
The  Art  of  Hypocrisy— My  NoyitlAte— The  Mother  Superior—The  Mad  Nun-r-' 
Strange  Doctrines— My  Scheme  ^^PalnlUI  Anticipations— The  Mockery— The 
Forced  Ceremony—The  Failure-Th^  New  Prison.     .       '  .  .26 

^^0,HA-FlrBR  III.        K-.^'    '     ' 
Fa^err-nie  Good  SupdHKl  Real  Frietad— Mysterious  Influences 

rere"—" Maceration™ wither  of  the  Noyices—Th'S  Forced  Profes ^ 

Death  of  my  Friend— Jesuits  and  Sulspicians— The  Hair-cloths  and  Scourges 
Mutiny— Suspicious  Intimacy— The  Old  WeU.  .  .  .  .       41 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Thoughts  of  Suicide— Fire  And  Conrents— Contemplated  Escape— My  Manner 
betrays  my  Purpose— I  am  Watched— My  Jonnial->-Another  Friend— The 
Search— A  Close  Prisoner— Craelty— Another  Project— My  Firmness— Immoral 
Practices  in  Convents •     .       60 


BISTORT  OF  THE  ORPHAN  NUN  OF  CAPRI. 

'-.■  ■  ^'  ■  '■•    I.  '       '  '. 

larilest  recolleoUont— An  Ospisio— Manner  of  Ufe  there— Father  FiUppo  Ukes  me 
to  Oapri-Desorij^tion  of  that  Island— The  Bay  of  Naples— ReflecUons  of  young 
'oMles  abandoning  borne  and  friends— The  UrsuUne  Convent  of  Capr^   .      88 


■^''w^if'Wi-:. 


•  J 


"■■■>  ;■ 


«        1 


Tin 


r. 


-  CONTKNTS. 


^ 


II. 


,      the  Superior  of  the  OonTent-^Uer  OninM^  ^#         « 

-Beflecllon.  on  the  Cruel  Bondage  of  NSuI^lwh^hl'^^^ 
OonTent»-Sonie  of  the  reiuon.  /'","''°"*<;'«»-Who  bring  young  Womei*  into 

to  InteljUe  then..  '"^  """  are  Wed-A,hen.e.  and  Con.plr.ole. 

-  *        *      ,  '        •  X*      •       ,•        .      W 

/         .  III.     -     ^  ^ 

I«>VelgllngQIrU  Into  Conventih-HowFrlcndg  ore  Tr«.-j-K    «  ' 

/Their  Ch.r.cte^.  ABper.,^-lu.,i„e„  i,'  I    ^'?*'fdwho  Oppow  or  Olject- 

/  Unhapplne..of  the  Sun.ln  ^^cZeS^iT  ^^"^'""^-^''*'  ^'^oy^<^- 
/      Fears  for  the  Future  ^   Conrent^-Prayer  my  onlj  SoUce-Hope.  and 

--.:-:  /•-•.-•       ■■■'        '       ■•  ;   ■.■  .  <^  »8  ■ 

nerle..       .     *^  7     ®"''**'""'^  *"  ^*«'"«  I"  "^od'oK  Daughter,  to  Nun- 


V. 


"^1-  - 


\'. 


VI. 


^  "ir    HABBATIVJi    B.SPlIlDt 

CHAPTER  V.  * 

The-PaMionof  thefiuperlor-The  "For«ilren»v„„    ur,    .  ^  \ 

Coffin-"  Beqnie«5.t  In  Pace  "^"  Tr^ltaU"!^  ?°  *'"*'*"  "-^'^«  •"  » 
Portrait^Moro  Per«»„tion^p,«Jv^^,t!!^vr^"*"''"^*"*'"-'*'' Stolen 

^  i..«eme«  of  Death  iXS^L^n^tn^Sr  '"'r^"  ^'"ST 
.  OHAPTBR  VI. 

4noth^  Angel  to  ke^-i^"!t^"*  ^*  ~^*""'  Unula-Death  to  Life- 
^N^*w8opS,r  V  ''*"'" *^°-"^  »ep.rtu«,-,A  Daguerwlyp.  of 


/ 


k 

;  i^t'j  v^      >;    v^.:---;:* 

.  •  ■  ■  -» 

*     . 

.188       • 

V                              '       ■      ■■ 

. 

,  •'       '.'v  'r .,  .     \ 

.  ~ii- 

Jfe^WO...^^=%, 

i«,      -  .  . 

HHB 

^^^^ 

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^         X 


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't 


•■i*'t/ 


Contents.'  ■  /  '**       ■- 'Jx 

T     ODA^TKR  VII. 
Mm.  Plrettjr  Nuns-A  DlipUy  of  Ohanni-Tho  Wandere'r  In  u/e  Oorridori-Remor«i  ' 
-The  Qullly  8uperlor-The  Law.  of  Nature  »t»«-m »  Uf9  Law.  of  Pop«ry-The 
Penally  of  Crlme-AJtfanlac'.  Death.  .  .  .     /    .  .  .,  ns 


/ 


v_ 


OONPES^BIONS  O?  A  SISTER  OP  ftlJiLBITY. 

■■V  ■   I.  r   ■■*■■■-    ^-  ' 

My  ParenUge,  Age,:And  Birth-pUce,  dbfibtfW-My  Oliject  In  writing  them  Ueiitotr. 
to  Mve  American  Pemale.  from  Nunneries,  and  to  hasten  their  abolUhment 
by  Uw-Character  of  Popish  Priests-How  this  Work  was  prepared  about  twenty^ 
years  ago— Ito  Authenticity.       ....  .  ,  ^     186 


■•\.,  ■       ,    '■  .  II.    ■  -       '      ,    ■ 

Sent  te  the  Grey  Nunnery  in  BlonCreal,  when  a  ChUd-Oompanlons  there-My  Po. 
ter  Brother-A  sketch  of  bis  History  and  Amiable  Character -Oaughiawaaa 
Village,  and  Indians.       .  .*         .  .  .  .  _      '    .  C.IM 

*  III.  ' 

*eft  the  Grey  Nunnery  for  a  Residence  in  the  Country-Treatment  there-Instruc- 
tion. received-Return  to  the  Convent-Become  a  Teacher-My  Puplta.    .     19» 

.  "     /■*     V  -^  IV.  ■  I  ■      '   ,' 

<     Trials  of  a  Npn^Llfe-In  Ul-healtfr-Went  to  the  St.  Francis's  Indian  VlUage-A 
kind  ^d^itaa#— My  OccupaUon.  there— Exposure  in  the  Forest.     .  .808 

S|c«nge  Events— Sunday  Occupations  In  Oonv;ent.-Druhken  Priests-Pretended 
Miia<4es.    .         .         .         .         ....  .  jjjg 


pe  or     - 
188 

^ht^m^^ 

Vf  - 

Visit  to  a  Secret  Hospital  for  Nun.  in  the  Oountry-:;iXhe  Convent  Gardener— Old 
Laiare— Mysterioua  Hlns^^       .         .  ,         .  .  -      .  gij 


■\ 


VII. 


The  inveigling  of  a  Scotch  Girl  Into  the  Nnnnery-Her  Oon^deigla^  Convemtton- 
mie  Superior'.  Plan— Its  Execution -The  Chapel-?A  Vision  of  the  DevU  and  the 
VfatfuMaiy.  .}      .  .  .       .  /•        .  /  ^^ 


■h 

r 


'/ 


VIII. 


A 


The  Hdtel  Dleu,  or  Black  Nunnery-rThe  ^terranean  Passage— Pacts— Argument! 
^Fro  oik)  Cim— Hlrtorleal  Bvid«De»-importance  of  the  Question— Eflbct.  to  bo 
Anticipated.   ,     .         .      /.         ,         .  .         .     M8 


ft' 


\ 


— .       »v 


't'  m  ^t. 


^- 


CONIBNTS. 


\ 


""^H.— ^^*^^=Jrr«rs- 


-\- 


'rlS''* 


S.W  Ti.iti*g  the  ^u^'eJSurLS^^^^^"""''  '"^^«'««-  whom  I 
^  •  •      '    •  •  .  .     248. 


-  *    XI 

"SSe^^ri"  "'V^--»-^««o-<«»K  '-  JuaUce-AnOId  Friend  take. 
'  *  *  *  •  •  •  •     8« 

■  ■*■  ■    ♦     .  ,     t    .  ■   ■      .   _    , 

/■'■'  ■>     ■■■■■'     -■-■     -  .     ■      - 

Xlll. 

XIV.  -.'■■.       ■    "•' 

OMtMonbewppreMed.  "' *"«l<'«>»-OonTento  need  Xxponnr-Ou, 

.'.':     ' •  -.■-■:•  ;.  -^  -   '  .   ...  aes-:- 


«T  MA««AtIT 


■  ■■■VlflO. 


„.,  OftAPTBB  VIII. 

Trioki  of  N«i»-The  tipqr  IWei*-innol«_n-  ,-^fc,„,  - 


STB 


p^    ,  OHAPtlR  IT. 


t  -• 


*  »•» 


"lla.-      *     4     n"!     iV 


"^ *•??  '  *",^,  * i'  » ^=  j^tfg?^  ty.y 


"i'^l'pSf?^*   f'l'  ^,*»«y.t»B";ti<ij5i^-^|»<'w3r5^^ 


Contents. 


OHAPTSB  X.  . 

Haatr  ftreparaUoM— The  Boat— The  Escape— The  Alano-Uy  FUght  with  SiBtw 

Agnei— Adventure*— VaUgoe  and  Bepose-kLlberty  I  how  Sweet  I— The  Sagaciotu 

Dog— A  Friend— A  Welcome-^Natural  Behavior,  Tenua  the  Artlflc!laUt7  of  Oon- 

Tent  Life— Considerate  Frienda-;PrieBta  in  Parsnit.  .  .  .  .     888 

OHAPTEB  XI. 
JThe  harty  Departure— Change  of  Horses— A  devoted  Friend-^The  Steamer- The  :! 
Arrival— An  angry  Bishop— A  Power  beyond  the  Lawi— A  coeT  Lawyer-The 
Dlsmlssat^The  baffled  Bishop.   .      ....       .     /■..    .     ,  •       .         .     S9S 

C^I^TBR  XII.'  .  ^, 
The,  Dawning  of  Ldve— The  Fascinatinj^  8trangep-A  Pel-Pottrait— The  Pleasnrea 
ofCbari^— The  Appe«l—The  Promise^  ...  .  .  .     80o' 

OHAPTEB  XIII. 

ne  Jesuit  SpleB— The  Angel  of  Mercy- The  By-wayt  of  the  City— Bleisinp  Before 

and  Ooraefl  After— Americana  and  Irish— The  DecepUon— The  Trap— Prisoners 

^  again— A  ^«  and  Inaoloit  Priest— The  Taolt.        .         .         .         .     ao6 

I 

OHAPTKB  XIV.  >',^ 

My  Cell— The  Conference— The  Saperior-ChroM-Qnestioningft— What  is  s  PriMnert^ 
ffister  Agnes— rliberty— The  Sobterranean  Passage— The  Archbishop— ••  Haipintf 
onLiber^"— Prayhigtoall  batGod— TheBetom^  .  .  .     819  ' 


0 


,30- 


OHAPTKB  XV. 

The  Tempter  and  the  Tempted— Threats— The  Heretio— Another  Convent— Qa^ged 
and  Blinded— Tha  Bide— <rhe  Convent  of  the  Sacred  — —  —The  Qay  Siqte- 
ribr.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .890 


I 


OHAPTBB  XVI. 


The  Popery>Trap— AmiaMe  Snakes— The  goHiUe  Protestants— The  Father  Oonfes- 

..  sor^A  Confessor  In  Love— The  Jealons  Superioi^A  Soene— An  angqr  Alterca- 

.tloli— OoseQaestloning.  .         .      -.  ,  .888 

^        OHAPVIB  XVII.  / 

A  Can  Krom  the  ArehMshop— The  Interview  la  the  Oratory— The  Evil  ^Irit  aAd  the 

Lost  Soul- Possessed  of  Satan— The  Annonncement  of  Freedom— The'Swoon— 

'  The  Beeovery— My  Departure  with  Bister  Agnet— We  are  Free  onoe  more.      888 

00M0LU8I0N. 

f«ttcrB  from  <Sora»— A  Dedaetlon-<The  Mystery  explained— The  Archbishop  and 
'  the  Law-^e  Archbishop  and  the  People— The  Proposal— A  Wedding— Qod  and 
•  •  •  •  •'•  •  •!.  81© 


t 


J 


%M 


■ti 


.  gMajBftiiiaiwMStaMiftiis^ato--. 


*rj  ,it  J,  ^  ;s    ^ji 


ul. 


«STRS».5».'EB:iS!S»i»fi*«5><!!!!II2 


TIE  ESCAPED  NTJN. 


i: 


CHAPTu^R   I. 

-      *  . 

The  Canaes  of  my  Perrerslon  to  Ronuu^Unn— The  Italian  Teacher— The  PoUon 
InAued— The  Bird  and  the  Snake— The  Oonrent  of  St.  *♦»♦*«— The  Arob- 
Blihop— The  Trap.  .- 

-  /   ■        ■  '-1^  ■      ,    '  ■■  ■      '■'. 

BROUGHT  np  to  believe  in  the  general  principles  of 
Protestantism,  and  continnally  attending  the  services 
of  either  the  Presbyterian  or  Episcopal  denomination — as 
the  pleasure  of  my  mother,  or  the  inclinations  of  my  father 
'  moved  them,  or  either  of  them — it  has  been  a  matter  of 
wonder  to  many  of  my  friends,  that  I  became  even  tempo- 
rarily attached  to  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  Bat  the 
wonder  of  my  friends,  will,  I  am  sore,  bo  greatly  modified, 
when  they  are  informed  of  the  causes  which  led  to  a  step 
seemingly  so  singular.  I  '     ^      .  / 

My  father,  like  many  nominal  Protestants,  was  not  as 
rigid  or  carefol  as  he  should  have  been,  daring  mv  earlier 
chnrch-going  days,  and  my  mother  was  too  indulgent  and 
easy  in  her  training,  while  I  was  vet  in  mv  Sabbath  sehool 


/ 
/ 


^ 


Perversion  to  Romanism. 


iponage-to  make  me  as  finn  in  the  faith  of  their  fathers,  as 
p  became  a  daughter  of  Protestant  parents  and  grand- 
parents to  be.  Bnt,  perhaps,  the  more  immediate'cause  of 
my  being  attracted  towards  the  Catholic  method  of  wors^p 
was  the  romantic  cast  of  mind  with  which  I  was  endowed 
by  natnre.      fi 

The  two  influences  mentioned,  and  the  circumstances 
which  I  am  caUed  upon  to  relate  in  this  connection,  have  all 
conspired  to  lead  me  into  a  series  of  false  steps  and  misforl 
tunes,  which  have  embittered  a  portion  of  my  life,  and 
caused  a  great  deal  of  unhappiness  among  the  several 
members  of  my  family.  / 

It  wiU  be  nfHJessary,  however,  to  "  cast  back,"  in  or/r  to 
convey  a  prop^  idea  of  the  cause  and  effect  of  my  brief, 
but  fatal,  experience  in  the  Catholic  Chrirch.  " 

My/  father  was  slow  in  his  movement^  sluggisli  ia^his^ 
resolutions,   tipsitating   in"  his   determinations-but   was 
quickly  aroused  when  thekeart  Was  touched ;  rapid  as  the 
hghtning's  flash  when  his  generosity  was  appealed  to,  and^ " 
lavish  to  extravagance  in  th0  indulgence  of  his  cimm. 

Indeed,  the  latter  noble  qvality  was  displayed  so  constautly 
and  BO  inordinately,  that  at  last  it  led  to  my^OO  generous 
father's  comparative  ruin,  tod  indirectly  to  miicli  of  our  fami- 
ly's misfortunes.    But  I  must  not  anticipate.    It  was  while 
my  then  indulgent  father  was  in  the  heyday  of  his  prosperity 
that  the  determination  was  formed,  to  add  the  aocomplish- 
ment  of  a  musical  education  to  the  few  othfer  acquirements    ^ 
with  which  my  mind  was  already  stored. 
^th  this  object  in  view,  my  father  advertised  for  a 


V 


^HB  Italian  Teacher. 


16 


musical  instrnctor,  whose  time  coald  be  devoted  almost 
eptirely  to  myself,  as  he  was'  desirons  that  I  should  make 
rapid  advaQcement  in  my  mnsical'stadies. 
.  ■-  A.  teacher  soon  |)resented  liimself,  in  the  person  of  an 
Italian,  whose  polished  manners,  affable  address,  and  well- 
attested  recommendations  as  a  perfect  master  ot^iis  profes- 
sion, «,t'  once  secured  him  the  position  he  desired.  If  I 
may  believe  my  truly  skillful  teacher,  the  progress  I  made 
was  far  above  the  average  of  his  former  pupils,  and  he 
manifested  the  utmost  pleasure  at  my  "  rapid  strides 
towards  a  perfect  knowledge  of  tl^e  divine  art  of  harmony,'' 
as  he  extravagantly  expressed  himself.  ' 

It  was  not  long  before  I  discovered  a  disposition  on  the  , 
part  of  my  Italian  teacher  to  deviate  from  his  legitimate 
sphere  of  instructions,  and  touch  gently  upon  theological 
sabjects,  and  I  soon  discovered  his  partiality  for  the  Bomish 
dogmas,  although  his  opinions  were  most  ad|roitly  and  deli- 
cately urged.  His  gentlemanly  address,  his  wmmng  mflsmers, 
and  his  fluent,  but  still  slightly  broken  accentuation  "of  our 
language,  combined  to  lend  a  charm  to  his  conversation, 
which  was  for  from  being  nnj^easant,  and  which  conspired 
to  work  upon  my  feelings  to  such  a  degree  as  to  cause  the 
most  serious  reflections  respecting  the  nature  of  our  con- 
nection, and  his  advancement  of  such  peculiar  doctrines  as  I 
had  heretofore  never  heard  propounded.     ^  ' 

I  had  been  revolving  the  su1)ject  over  in  my  mind  one  day, 
while  sitting  at  the  window,  and  gazing  listlessly  at  the 
passers-by,  when  Signor  Legniloi  (my  teacher)  entered,  and 

^wing  ft  chair  towards  thft  window  soat^Ml  liimBfllf  ^ 


-■ill 


"PICTURE   Worship. 


16 


charm  for  him  wfts  tl,«  i,^^    *     ,,  ®  greatest 

it-BOdinne  and  saintlike  did  it  seem  ""O'stop 

^7».to  We  been  et«^,,L:^  ;^"-^^«»^^ 
»8  n^nner  of  adoring «.e  piotox.  of  .Le.y^''  ^ 
ginng  expression  to  niTaio«,i.t.  I  y  <>■»»».     On 

'^e.«^^tote«'.rrrrrir:?r  ^ 

n«rty  as  I  c«,  remember,  in  tte  foBowing  words  . 
wo^bipedltat  r„  '.  "  ■""  ""*. "  ««"  "'-«>'  h 

«...concerlgan;d:,,!r;it  ^Br'  "^  T'      ■ 

.-»Ho,.snotbingi.tbe.it;otCr::.;: 


/ 


Cocncil/of    Trent. 


«■ 
17 


its  representation,  becaase  it  is  no  diyinJuty  in  itself  or  in  its 
own  prototype."       , 

I  was  not  so  blinded  at  that  time  by  the  fascinating  splen- 
dors of  the  Romish  system  as  to  be  deceived  by  such  specions 
reasoning,  and  at  once  made  answer  that  "  j&Ithongh  an  idol, 
as  demonstrated  by  snch  casuistry,  mighjt  be  well  nnder- 
stdod  by  intelligent  men,  and  adored  accordingly,  as  a  repre- 
sentation divested  of  any  attributes  of  deity,  yet  he  could 
not  deny  that  the  ignorant  were  blind  worship^s  of  images, 
as  powers  in  and  of  themselves,  and  thkt  thousands  were 
simple  enough  to  believe  that  such  images  or  idols  possessed 
certaii\,  miraculous  abilities  to  reward  or  punish  those  who 
worshiped  ttiem  or  appealed  to  them  when  in  trouble,  or 
'confessed' to  them." 

My  teacher  was  somewhat  disconcerted  at  this  direct 
blow  at  his  theory  of  image-worship,  and  could  nbt  at  once 
reply  ;  but  after  a  struggle  to  recover  froimthe  effects  of/ 
my  home-thrust,  he  said  : 

"  It  is  proved  by  the  Council  of  Trent,  '|hat'  the  images 
of  Christ  and  of  the  Virgin  Mother  of  God,  and  of  the 
other  saints,  are  to  be  kept  and  retained  especially  in  tenlp 
pies,  and  that  due  honor  and  veneration  are  to  be  paid  to 
them.'"  •  . 

It  may  not  be  acknowledged,  I  immediately  replied,  that 
the  Council  of  Trentjs  better  authority  than  God,  who  has 
,said  : "  Thou  shalt  not  make  unto  thyself  any  graven  image,  . 
or  the  likeness  of  anything  which  is  in  heaven  above,  or  in 
the  earth  beneath,  or  in  the  Waters  under  the  earth.  Thou 
down  to  th6ta  Mr  wbrsKpTilem,"  Sc. 


4'^. 


4 


'^■ 


■^K" 


la 


v.- 


's  C"^  ,■  JEsurrisji.. 


'      "■''*"'<"'"  .aid  Legnw  „.      ,,  ' 

"So,"«Udi  ".o  ''""''"Mreceireit." 

'^'^etthede.0^,,^;     »^P    LhaH.., 
le  "a.  «&t  ,d„i  J  ,^  ^^»  "  <•"«.  n.7  sight ,  b« 

.      ^"""ie^daimSd.V^rVf      """"'''°«- 
Tke-  K  is  attacked,-iow  ^.J"*'-'""'  «"««■««  we  are' 
;"»  are  .t,„ked^^  ^,'^' >« -«de«tood,  b,  tho«, 

"Other  ehurch,  wUeh  ^est  T'  "•"  "■"*-«■« 
-«;  «-i«h  hi,  .ppoh..:,^*  trt"  """"''^  "»• 

^™«arof  theBtero.,  Cit,o/C;^    "^  ""««■'  «» 
.|o%a™.p«.,  rJ^'Z^^  ?«  "-  '^ 
>o«  of  P«s,™pt„„ jpri ^f™"-''  ■"«»««>  the  incn^. 


,.:7-- 


V 


Falling  fbom  '  Grack. 


./ 


19 


ItJscatiDg  the  cause  of  his  "  Iqiig/of  the  earth/'  he  had  the 
tact  to  be  more  cautions  and  gentle  in  the  future.  He  had 
gained,  one  advantage,  however,  which  he  did  not  fail  to 
availl&nself  of  m  aJl  occasions  presenting  themselves,  for  a 
renewal  of  the  consideration  of  theological  topics.    ^^ 

My  mmd  becalpe  perplexed  and  uneasy  on  the  subject  of 
religion,  and  after  a  few  visits  to  the  Catholic  church,  after 
witnessmg  the  imposing  ceremonies,  the  display  of  orna- 
ments, and  all  the  gorgeous  paraphernalia  of  worship  pecu* 
liar  to  theBomish  Church,  I  felt  as  though  I  was  about  to 
be  drawn  within  th^,  mysterious  but  attractive  pale  of  that 
chnrchj  from  nrhich  I  still  shrunk  as  with  an  instinctive 
dread  of  its  embrace.  As  the  fluttering  and  terrified,  but 
irresistibly  attracted  bird,  flies  in  gradually  lessening  circles, 
around  the  T«nomous  snake,  as  it  lies  coiled  in  its  serpentine 
folds,  BO  did  I  fly  from,  yet  return  to,  the  witchery  of 
Bomanism.  / 

The  insidious  doctrines  of  the  "Fathers,"  too,  be  it 
remembered,  were  being  poured  into  my  ears  by  the  plausi- 
ble Legnini,  in  thef  intervals }of  my  attendance  at  church, 
while  Father  Biley,  the  priest  residing  in  our  section  of  the 
city,  ex^  ha^  a  kind  word  and  a  fatherly  "blessing,"  for 
his  "dear  dajnghter."  To  these  Catholic  acquaintances 
were  soon  added  several  la^es,  whose  profession  of  love,  and 
little  offices  of  £Hendship  won  upon  my  confiding  nature,  until 
J  began  to  believe  that  the  Catholics  were  the  only  good 
people  in  the  world.    On  one  occasion,  being  pressed  to 

visit  the  community  of  St.j^— ,  with  m/friend  Mary ^ 

T Iiili(ililiiil  iiiilli  lliiijpiiinii Ill)  ^liii  III I 


> 


rlvt' 


20 


A    AlMrORTUNB. 


tt    peq,e,  whUe  the  beaatifol  p.i.ti„g,,  th,  m«.ic,  „d 
h.  «r  Of  «„an«e  mystery  sarroanding  the  ,™i„tly  con- 
Btracted  edifice,  ao  completely  chan-ed  me.  that  I  w«,  loth 
-  *.  leave  a  spot  apparently  «,  heavealy  m  its  sarroaadings. 
The  Mother  Saperior  .argei  me.  with  m».y  egressions 
.  of  mterest  m  my  welfare,  to  caU  again,  and  remain  for  a  few 
days  or  a  week,  with  the  commn^ity,  as  a  reftge  from  the 
cares  and  anxieties  of  the  world.    I  promised  to  d'o  so.  and 
Babseqnently  fnlBIIed-  a  promise,  which  1  was  only  too  glad 
to  make.    My  father'^  e«ra™ga„t  labits'  had  now  began 
to  affect  his  fortn^e,  bnt  not  having  ^mcient  decision  „f 
character  to  at  on^  retrench  his  ezpenles,  and  manage'  hi^ 
?ffajs  w.th  more  economy,  matters  only  *ept  on  from  bad 

htT;,"?'"  '"^''*^''  *°  "P*""  a^a  "Olace  for 
h«  ^oobled  mind.    It  was  now.  too.  t,at  my  mother's 
I..al,th  gave  way  before  ^pressing  el^es  which  had  long    ' 
P^yed  npon  her  spirits,  .^cnence  of  my  palpable  lean 

PH  and  owmg  to  other  family  troables.    She  r^y 

qmUy  yeldmg  „p  her  spirit  to  Him  who  gave  i     .„d 

^m^y  jessing  those  loved  -aes  whom  she  Jeffbeh^i  TJ 
m  this  T^e  of  »tts.  ...     -  '' 

My  sisters,  my  brother,  and  myself.  „e,e  now  piaced  in 
.  4irerent  position  towards  each  other  irom  that  wMctw" 
^  maintained  dnring  the  Me  of  „nr  motM,  anft" 

^r^teneA^^c^nmstances  operated  nponn.y  pride  With. 


forr.  whisl.  was  h«d  to  be»r.  whje  the  death  of  my  mother 


-y. 


■;■■" 


.^- 


.V«P' 


- .,  I- 


Th«  Pakaoca. 


21 


threw  the  whole  responsibility  of  the  household  affairs  upon 
my  hands.    So  great  was  the  reduction  of  my  father's  for- 
tune that,  on  the  event  of  my  mother's  death,  he  removed 
his  fa^mily  to  a  residence^|nore  humble  in  its  pretensions,  and' 
more  in  keeping  with  his  now  limited  income.  '^ 

I  at  once  perceived  the  change  whicli  "was  wrought  in  tho 
feelings  of  those  who  had,  in  the  sunnier  hours  of  our  for- 
tune, called  themselves  my  friends;  and  the  bitter  lesson 
was  taught  me  that  trrfb  friendship  is  a  rare  virtue. 

It  was  while  writhing  under  the  conviction  that  I  must 
suffer  all  the  humiliating  slights,  and  slurs,  and  insults,  con- 
quent  upon  the  sad  reverse  of  fortune,  to  which  I  was  sub- 
jected by  my  father's  folly,  that  one  of  my  Catholic  friends 
proposed  the  seclusion  of  a  Convent  as  a  panacea  for  all  my 
woes,  and  at  the  same  time,  Leguini,  who  by  this  time  had 
secured  the  friendship  and  confidence  of  my  fa.ther,  sug- 
gested to  my  parent  the  advantage  of  placing  me  in  the 

community  of  St. ,  until  his  property  should  be  freed 

from  its  present  incumbrances.  He  also  urged  the  necessity 
of  providing  for  me,  while  it  was  y^t  in  my  father's  power 
to  do  so,  at  the  time,  with  consummate  skill,  affecting  a 
tender  regard  for  the  eternal  welfare  of  my  soul.  My 
father  thus  worked  upon,  at  last  concluded  to  dispose  of 
pie  as  advised  by  Leguini ;  but  while  my  wounded  pride 
shrank  from  the  rude  touches  of  the  unfeeling  world,  I  could 
not  reconcile  myself  to  the  thought  of  being  immured,  per- : 
haps,  for  life,  within  the  walls  of  a  convent,  and  the  more*  I 
reflecjt^upoA  the  momentous  step^  the  more  I  dreaded  its_ 
qo^ununation.    I.  could  very  readily  perceive  the  selfisb. 


/. 


,  .ix«  - 


I-  ^ 


■^ 


if 


X 


^ 


The   Power  op  Gold. 


te*'"  I 


■notiM.  which  moTed  m.^  Ca»i,„i- 

■  '"""''  »'"»'>.  to  which  w«  .ttaehed  .  I .  "^  °^  "VJ^ 

•        I  "«,  therefore,  ..spicio„,'„f  1      '"d^P'e.a.inJaeJI 

-M.^.oHed.ethe'rdea^^h:;:^^':^-;"^*^ 

^    Sode.p,e.lfdidlirdX*r ''^"'^"'-^ 
W".  th*tl  ,h„^„,  „.^^  ''""T^S  period  of  „^ 

""o-d  bear  &  „u.,  C  L:!"""?™'-^""'''^'-'. 

theysho^d  remember  Ctt;V.f  ■""  '^'• 
-  ««>—.,   taste   adnu^.,^'^™ '"«'»-««„«. 

"■"Vs  re^af  at  „^  e^^^^,:*  ^*«t.  '^^^ft   were 

""  "o^tberere™,,,,  thfa  ^L   rflStt^"^  "*"'    ' 
»Pon  me,  that  ifeeAs,  to  eba„ge  ZmHm^^"-^ 
fomrf  that  friendship  bad  its  ^h,   ^•P^  No*!^ 
-»  love  it,  estimate  i„  2'^^  '''''"'  ''^  ^'^"«'»'. 
•WfcMatiob  of  the  ooiits.  ^""'**'  "'«'»''«''  its         . 

""  lo  i»  this' frame  of  mind  r„.  "       " 

^,«  0>  ^„^,  „,  rt^7,?™"«>  -l*"  to         . 

'»«««^  bold  and  doereiviU'"- r™***  ' 
"oed  in  Tder  to  econmi^,  T  '"*°"'  '"«^'J 

^^'^' ?^»°^'W^  of  onr  unhappy-         " 


;««••{*< 


# 


Thb  Tmp. 


^8 


jiunay.    I  obseiVed,  on  taking  leave  of  my  father,  that  he 

■  W  ^®®P^y  moved;  but  my  suspicions  as'to  therealcanse 

'^'ll  his  apparent  grief  did  not  then  occur  to  my  mind.    We 

soon  reached  the  village  of — -,  and  a  short  drive  brought* 

ns  to  the  gates  of  the  nunnery,  apid  presently  we  werb  shown 

into  the  parlor,  where  I  was  greatly  surprised  to  find 

Leguini  and  the  Ardhbishop  of .    On  beholding  these 

men,  I  experienced  an  indefinable  dread  of  some  imj^oding  • 
evil,  and  my  instinctive*  fears  of  some  terrible  event  were 
soon  to  be  realized.  '.  || 

The  Archbishop  approached  me  with  an  illy-assumed  tes- 
derhess  of  regard,  and  taking  my  hands  in  his  own,  sai*, 
"My  dear  daughter,  it  is  yoiir  father's  wish  that  you  should 
assuine  the  habit  and  duties  of  an  inmate  of  this  honse,  and  , 
I  ain-«ure  your  good  sense  wUl  tell  you  how  desirable  it  is  | 
to  comply  with  his  wishes  and  at  the  same  time  mark  out  a 
line  of  conduct  for  your^lf,  which  will^if  properly  observed, 
redound  to  your  eternal  welfare."    ,, 

I  remonstrated   against  this  strange  propositioii,  and 
plaii^y  declared  to  him  that  I  had  no  taste  for  the 'convent.  - 
"So  much^he  worse,''  said  he  to  me,  "for  your  father  has 
so  exhausted  hjs  met^is  lipon  your  sisters,  that  I  cannot  see 
what  he  can  do  for  you  in  the  narrow  circumstances  to , 
which  be  is  reduced.    Consider,  Miss,  you  ihust  eithjer  enter- 
for  ever  into  this  house,  or  go  to  some  other  convMt,  where 
they  wili  receive  you  fot  a  moderate  salaify,  find  from  which 
you  can  only  depart  at  the  death  of  your  parent,  an  event  / 
for  which  you  miay  have  to  wait  a  long  time,"    I  complained 
latterly,  ftnd  nhed  a  flood  of  toftTBt    Thq  Motlio^  8uporiof^ 


.r^. 


'W 


^ 


«     « 


\. 


^v 


■:^^ 


''•i 


24' 


Hypocrisy. 


■vn 


1*54.. 


State  for  which  T  ho^         ,. ,  ***  *®  ®°*er  "»*<>  a 

then..    In  f^;  ,^  ^^  ,^   '^     „.'''"  »»  "» <" 
,    «»"er  which  he  would  makeTer   .t  "'"  '^^  *"• 

-•   nF«.eon.ider.btte'ii,t';~«''«>  "  *" 

»f  it,  with  the  most  8*^!^!  "*  '^™"»*  "« 

-ke  "topped  Zlttv''^"'""*™'"''"-    At  first 
«!ee».»T  ^^'«'  "■"  "■<«  "ttered  »  few 

ii"d  to  desorihe.  '^    ^  '""  '""  »'  *  "^""-t 


The  -Aet  of*  Hypocbisy. 


25 


CHAPTER  II. 


The  Art  of  HypocrUy— My  NoviUate— The  Mother  Saperlor— The  Mad  Non- 
Strange  Doctrinea— My  Scheme— PainftU  AnUcipations- The  Mockery- The 
^     Forced  Ceremony— the  Pjutture— the  New  msoir.  """      T~ 

THE  art  of  hypocrisy  is  that  in  which,  of  all  others,  they 
most  excel.    The  Superior  then  said  to  me  (in  troth  I 
beiiejre  she  was  weeping  at  the  time),^ "  Alas  I  then,  my  child, ' 
yott'Me  going  t<5^  leave  us  I  my  dear  child,  we  shall  never 
see  you  more  1"  and  other  ejaculations  which  I  did  not  hear. 
I  thriBW  myself  down  upon  a  dhair  ;  I  was  silent,  I  wept,  I 
iras  motionless  ;  I  walked  about,  sometunes  leanmg  against 
-the  walls,  at  other  times  pouring  forth  my  grief  into  her 
bosom.    Conceive  what  I  felt  when  she  added,  "  But  might 
you  not  do  one  thing  ?    Consider,  but  do  not  you  say  that 
I  advised  you  y  you  c^n  keep  a  secret ;  I  would  not  for  all 
the  world  that  there  w^s  any  reproach  upon  my  character. 
What  is  it  that  they  desire  tff  you  ?  that  you  take  the 
veil?    Weill  why  not  take  it?^  What  engagement  does 
this  lay  you  under?    None  ;  to  stay  two  years  with  us. 
We  do.not  know  who  may  die  in  the  course  of  that  time^  or 
who  may  live  it  out ;  two  years  is  an  inconsiderable  period ; 
'  some  fortunate  circumstances  may  intervene  before  the  end 
of  two  y^ws."    She  accompanied  this  insidious  proposal' 


g*?!f5^f>»>;' 


V,*       »     '.7  <0T     -      >1 


26 


A  Nw  BY  PaoxY. 


"<"' :  »I«  I  ft  thfa  „r     ^ """■ '  ■""'«««"  "<«  very 

■       «-  I  w«.  „„^a  w"  ^„'  f  f  ."  f,«™"-  penetration 
■  yMe  the  Matter  w.a  oo^  JlT"  "'  "■    "  *"«  ■»«««■  ^ 

^'^  wlat  e^ti"  C^  "^  "■'  «'""«  "y  consent.  J 

*"">*  I  «.»■  n,y  father-that  I  fZ  "^  *"  *'"?<« 

•       ■*  'eeltag^i  «.d  that  r  w.'r'^'^'-'totonoh 
Father  ^ „u     "         ""^  '™  Meiible      It  „. 

iW,  thedayon  whiohit?.:  27""'/'""'*  W  of 
-"e  sorrowfh, ;  thongh  the  nl  T  ""^  »"«  «'  "■» 

-Mwent,  tune,  I  feL*^;^™  ^"l"*^ 'onnd  to  ™pp„„ 

•P^  the  step,  of  the  TlU^      f  *■""''"  i*' «o  fa,, 

"othbg,  I ».,  stnpid ,  thevl,-  .  """""f'  I  «" 

;^t  length  thi,  erne,  ceL"  ItnT.  7  '"  ""• 
>     "tawgers  withdrew,  and  I  ^i^J?  «>«cl»ded,  aU  the 

,    ^''^the.en.braoedn.e.andl.d  ?;r?'*'»''°-^ 
-  iandwme  die  is  I  how  this  M  t'  *'  "^ ■*«»'.  ""O" 

.  »' -er  Pon.p,e^on,  loX^fjt^   /""  ^"^  •»-" 
low  it  roond.  he,  &» ,  ^^l  ^  T^  '«»'»  "er  I 


1S^« 


r',Kff^  "t*''«''i^!'5S';'.'*i" 


,    f  ' 


«?!»-> 


A   "Pretty"  Victim. 


ai 


'■^-  J 


this  habit  displays  her  waist  and  her  arms  I"  I. listened  to 
them  with  pain,  although  at  the  time  I  fo^^d  it  nec^ssai;y 
to  agree  with  them  ;  when  I  was  alone  in  my  cell  I  r^men^- 

bered  their  flatteries,  and  could  not  refrain  from  p^ttmg 

.1 

thenf  to  the  test  in  my  little  inirror  ;  but  I  thought  them 
not  altogether  false. 

There  were  some,  honors  attached  to  this  day  ;  they 
increased  them  on  my  account.  I  paid  little  attention  to 
thei^;  but  they  affected  to  think  and  say  the  coiitrai^p^_ 
though  it  was  clear  they  had  no  reason.  At  night,  on 
coming  out  ftom  prayers,  the  Mother  Superior  repaired  to 
my  cell.  '"  In  truth,"  said  she,  "  after  a  lijltle  consideration, 
I  know  not  why  you  impressed  so  much  reluctance  to 
assume  this  dress  ;  it  makes  you  a  wonder  j  you  are  quite 

charming;  Sister is  a  very  pretty  nun;  we  shall 

love  you  the  bQ,tter  for  that.  Hye,  let  us  see  you  walk. 
You  don't  keep  yourself  upright  enough,  it  is  not  necessary 
that  you  stoop."  She  set  right  my  head,  feet,  hands,  waist, 
ftnd  arms— it  was  almost  as  good  as  a  lesson  of  De  Grand 
Val  upon  the  monastic  .graces,  for  every  condition  has  its 
own.  She  then  sat  down,  and  said  to  me,  "  It  is  very  well ; 
but  let  us  now  talk  a  little  seriously.  Before  the  l^pse  of 
two  years  your  father  may  have  altered  his  resolutic^  ;  and 
even  you  yourself  may  wish  to  remain  here  when  h^  wishes 
to  take  you  away  ;  this  is  not  impo'ssible."  "  Majdam,  do 
not  believe  it."  "  You  have  been  amongst  us,  but  you  are 
still  unacquainted  with  our  mode  of  life ;  it  certainly  has 
its  pains,  but  it  also  has  its  pleasures."  j 

I  shall   not  ente^  into  a  long  detail  respectihg  my 


•/ 


/ 


i  ■  ^ 


■wi^r; 


28 


^1 


'■V- 


^The  Firs*  Degree. 


novitiatd  •  if  a-  <■  > 

"C  -ovice^.  i,  ti,-„„^^  ^™»  ™o  «fe.    A  softer 

tW»»  that  is  „„p,,^„f .  ^  *""  *"«  condition  of  i,^ 

""^fiaea  ,eJtio.    S,   tto:;!"'  ""  ""^  »^^ 
■>«»,  »he  Idb  yon  into  tra.„„aUh^  '  ^^  ™"°°'"*'«  <'"''- 
-         »»«»,  she  fascinate,  yon:    ol  "'""^  '»"'  '■"»  i^ 

■  e^erience  c«,M  be  proo^i^^  2f ^^  ""  '^«'»'" 
<»»  to  precipices,  bnt  I  dolu™^"'    ™'"'«M 

■  «■«.  at  service,  at  penance  Z' "'""'''"""««  "^'-^ 
.     tow,  I  rose  I.te,.I  ,.s^l°l"*/"*^«"  ^  ^  "»t  e«<, 

-"  «on.e  days  'in  wWchT:^;:: '"^'P''-  ^- 
«"»»»*  Of  sacriflrf^g  „,^^  ""^^^  ""^  ««M  for  the 
occnrrcnccs  in  the  world  of  »k  ,.  !.  I    ""  "•  distressing 

'"'^  distort  facts.  Cliftesr"'""''^'*'"'^ 
praises  without  end  andfj      \      *""'  '"'^  *<■»  it  is     • 
.""o<.  prevents  ,o:'Cr^''-'''^»«-ofO«? 
8^«    In  tte  meanwhile  tL^  .        ''°°""»«"ff  ^ 
•"d  sometine,  hastened  bl'l^""'  *»"  »-'  "l^ok  I 
■"'.*»»..    I  feu  their         ^"'"^•-'"''"•ron.       , 
»'™«th.    Iwenttoinirrj'"""  "'■'■'  '"«'-«' 
»«  aoriees.    Those  women  Tl   '^T'  "  ""^  """^'  »f 
'""We  ,0.  occasion  therfoM        '    ^'""'""^  f  * 
l^^y  -".'e  an^  a^nsemet;  i  "  I'l  "'t'^ '■"""t  that 

''--^--..oashtCtStilfe 


i*'^&twa»-'D»^  ^W^nffK*  «  " 


\   ^r5^«?^8'^}»r?'CT%,'«s^"i'">  ~'«  I?'!'fsvw.'r»^^'^ri^''4ft7i4?'1^''t?!^^?' '  . 


t   'i 


X. 


Thb  Mad  Nun. 


29 


aty  of  80  often  repearting  to  you,  the  task  becomes,  in  the 
end,  stale  and  disgusting  to  them,  but  they  undertake  it  for 
the'  sake  of  bringing  money  into  their  house.  This  is  the 
important  object  for  which  they  lead  a  life  of  deceit,  and 
prepare  forty  or  fifty  years  of  despair,  and  perhaps  eternal 
misery,  for  young  innocents  ;  for  it  is  certwn  that  of  «very  ^ 
hundred  nuns  who  die  before' t1key  jfeach  the  age  of  :fifty, 
there  are  fifty  ruined',  exclusive  of  those  who  become  foolish, 
stupid,  or  mad,  in  the  prospect.  ;^ 

One  day,  a  nun  of  the  last  description  happened  to  escape 
from  the  cell  in  which  she  ifras  confined. ,  I  saw  her.  I  never 
saw  anything  so  frightful.   Her  hair  was  dishevelled,  and  her 
body  almost  naked ;  she  dragged  iron  chains ;  her  eyes  were 
wild;  she  tore  her  hair,  she  beat  her  breasts  with  her  fists ; 
she  ran,  she  roared  ;  she  imprecated  upon  herself  and  others 
the  most  dreadful  ciirses  ;  she  wanted  to  throw  herself  out' 
of  the  window.    Terror  seized  me ;  I  trembled  at  every  joint. 
I  saw  my  fate  in  that  of  this  unfortunate  wretch,  and  I 
immediately  resolved  in  my  mind  to  die  a  thousand  times 
rather  than  encounter  it.    They  perceived  the  effect  which 
this 'incident  would  have  upon  my  spirits,  and  they  endea- 
vored to  prevent  it    They  told  me  I  know  not  how  many 
absurd  and  contradictory  stories  about  this  nun  ;  that  her 
intellect  was  der^vnged  before  she  came  to  the  house  ;  she 
had  a  terrible  fright  at  a  critical  time ;  she  had  become  sub- 
ject to  visions.;    she  thought  she  held  iBtfir6ourse  with 
angels  ;  some  preachers  of  an  extravagant  morality  had  so 
terrified  her  about  the  judgments  of  God,  that  her  disor- 
dered brain  had  been  turned  by  the  description ;  ,she  saw 


¥\' 


'I, 


■/  ■-  ■  ■  ;.. 


80 


A  Cruei.  Letter. 


Th.  period  arrired  at  which  ft  LT         ?  "  ""'• 
.  >y^ "hetherleo^a  keep l^^^r  j:"=^  '"  ™ 

,       h^r  hand.    Her  look,  were  Zt, '.  '"  '  ''««'  *» 

■--  ™A  ,•  it  seeded  JtfhZ        """  ''^^'«'-    «"' 

were  hntK    -i  '  """^  stood  in  her  iiW 

,  '  "^' !  *«  waited  tiU  I  .ho„„         5* '  '* 

te-pted  to  speak  ii„t,  hot  Ico^ljj,"'''  ''I«'*M  »«  • 

■"'^owIdid.-ehe^b^rveTT.^       "''^'-    «*«"*««» 

.•<^^>'^.ti;ad.t:i^!:;:'-'-'p"»w 

"d'sposed.    To  an  this  I.„3we,S  '•■  KT       *""'*"''  *" '" 
She  SHU  kept  the  letter  ZC\   .     '  "^ '''""  "«'«'«•'' 

"POB  her  toee,  and  her  hand  lit  '^         ''  ""  P»'  " 
■aier  haring  p„t  some  a2       '      """""'"^  " '  «*  h"*,    - 

^th.tiXerkJhTtT"'"''"'^"^*'"'-'''''''- 

"Hereisaletter."  '"^"""•*«»i<'-- 

When  she  uttered  this  word  I  felt  m.  V    ^       ' 
\  ladded,  h,  a  trembling  voice  "i;,'       "  '"■*••  "«       ' 

""« i.  take  and  re!dT'.  '^""""^«'«  f" 

«'--rto:::;::i ----,, readit 


j= 


-^^ 


«"^^'»    *5K 


'!*>!««;     '   «f  >  •»"-<a^*'«j'w;j4,^^ 


More  Htpocws 


81 


'i-i 


\ 


Sometimes  I  scarcely  held  the  paper ;  at  other  times  I 
grasped  it  with  violence,  as  if  I  tad  been  tempted  to  tear 
it  or  to  twist  it  in  my  hand^and  ihrow  it  away. 
\  "  Alas  1  my  child,  what  answer  ahall  we  make  to  this  ?" 
«  Madam,  you  know  best." 
"\No,  I  do  not.    The  times  aire  unfortunate  ;  your  father 
has  sustained  some  losses  ;  it  is  impossible  he  can  make  any 
I  permanent  settlement  upon  you  i  70U  have  assumed  the 
habit ;  he  has  been  at  some  expense  ;  by  taking  this  step, 
yon  have  made  l^m  conceive /some  hope§  ;  he  has  announced 
to  his  acquMutances' that /you  are  immediately  about  to 
commence  the  profession.  /At  all  events,  you  may  depend 
upon  every  iissistance  which  I  can  give  you.    I  have  never 
enticed  any,  person  Jnto  aisonvent ;  it  is  a  state  into  which 
we  are  conducted  by  the.  voice  of  the  Deity,  and  it  is 
extremely  dangerous  to/blend  our  voice  with  his,  "TE  sl^all 
never  attempt  to  speak  to  your  heart,  if  ^ace  is  silent ; 
hitherto  I  never  have  had  to  reproach  myself  with  the  mis- 
fortunes of  any  person,  and  I  should  not.  wish  to  begin  with 
you,  my  child— you  wiio  are -so  dear  to  me.    I  have  not  for- 
gotten that  it  was  al/my  persuasion  that  you  took  the  first 
step,  and  I  will  not  fiufifer  them>  to  take  advantage  of  this  to 
bring  you  into  engagements  contrary  to  your  inclination. 
Let  us,  then,  consider  togiether.    Do  you  wish  to  make  pro- 
fession V* 
"No,  madam." 

"  You  have  no/relish  for  the  the  religious  state  ?" 
"  No,  madam.^ 
•*'  What  do  yriu  wish  to  be,  th<?n  P 


i.'S 


./■ 


vTiS3"W. 


^. 


COBIOIOH. 

VAnytiiDg  bat  a  Mn  •  T  do  „»,    •  u 

"  W«ll,  joa  shall  Bot  b  -         ^       -      . 

■nr    *^T,       *"*y<"n' fatter »      ■  "'T*".  md 

--     "«  "gr^  in  some  ideas    «!.  '  ' 

»■«"«,  whi^Lemed  to  ^„rr       ''"'"' "''°T  "» ''e  / 
tlo^sent  tbeXeetor  of  thTT/'^^^    I"  ««  4»tin„,  / 

"--T'-™  I  assayed  th^Bibit^^' J"'  """"^  '■"  ^  W 

'"««  Witt  some  pio»»„„.„';^;--;/  i«l  to  entfr  tl 

«» ■»«;    la  the  meanwhile  thetr.     »  '  '°''^'»"Uto 
»«  «»y  farther.    I  did  „ot  jT!      ™  '"""'°'  "'/'"'tii 

-'«^  poiat.wittm!  17^*:,;?:  *"«  -- v"  -«t 

;««''Y'°«o'ea.p.;:edi^j:hS"4''--i " 

tte  me«,jm,e,  I  was  in  a  most  d^'T  .v  •'Jfipm.  fc 
Wlongtt  might  iast  and ift  ?'''*« '•/^'-'-ot 
""'"  was  to  beeome  „,  me  iTT' '  '"f  «««  '«« 
«'«Pte*»,,to  of  condaetof  whiZ  "f '•"'atiee,  i 


,'i: 


l^S*^"-,-! 


■•  •*    \  ■■ 

*  *  «. 

.1 
■  ■>'■ 

My  SchemeI 

88 


notice  to  the  first,  pretending  to  be  reconciled;  bat  my 
design  was  to  put  an  end  to  this  per^cution,  by  rendering 
it  notorious,  and  publicly  to  protest  against  the  violent 
measures  which  they  had  in  contemplation.    I  sMd  that  she 
was  mistress  of  my  fortunes  that  she  might  dispose  of  it 
according  to  her  wishes  ;  thLt  she  might  require  of  me  to 
take  the  vows,  and  J  should  do  it.    Imagine  the  joy  which 
was  diffused  through  the  whole  house— the  caresses  renewed 
with  every  species  of  flatteJy  and  seduction.    "God  had 
spoken  to  my  heart ;  there  wias  no  person  fitter  than  I  for 
the  state  of  perfection.    It  was  impossible  for  this  not  to 
happen ;  they  had  always  expected  it. .  Those  did  not 
discharge  their  duty  with  so  much  profit  and  constancy  who 
were  nojb  really  called.    The  mother  of  the  novices  had 
never  seen,  in  any  of  her  pupUs,  a  call  so  truly  characteristic  j 
she  was  quite  jsurprised  at  the  peirerse  fit  that  I  had  tak?n, 
^ut  she  had  always  told  ouu  l^otheTSuperior  to  persevere, 
andthfit  it  would  pass  over  ;  the  best  ntpi^ad  moinents  of 
a  similar  kind ;  they  proceeded  from  suggeptidns  Of  the  Evil 
Spirit,  who  always  redoubled  his  efforts  when  he  was  on  the 
'  poi^t  of  losing  his  prey ;  that  I  was  about  to  make  my 
escape  ftom  him;  my  path  henceforth  would  be  strewed 
with  roses ;  the  restraints  of  a  religious  life  would  be  more 
supportable,  because  I  had  greatly  exaggerated  them ;  this 
sudden  pressure  of  the  yoke  was  a  favor  of  Heaven,  for  the 
purpose  of  afterwards  lij^tening  it."    It  appears  to  me 
rather  singular  that  the  same  thing  should  proceed  from  the 
Deity  and  from  Satan,  according  as  they  might  think  proper 
to  view  it.    There  are  many  circumstances  similar  to  tUs 

a* 


r 


J:--- 


.f 


■/'. 


ROKISH    LooiO. 


-  \        .""■*  '^^  tte  con*«nt ,  Md'l  hive  oft»  ;.  X 

rations  from  Heayen     Th„«  .r"         '    *"' '""  ™Pi- 
Deity  b,  wh,rrL«  ?    .°  r°  ""  ""^^  '«>«■ 

„„  X       """""'"'d  preach  the  aermoD  mSli^i     ^ 

'•"iWl,-  there,  „d  that  th!l™l  '*'  "^^-^  b. 
.      »"' K "Mother.  XfaViwJ^^h-'"''!'"'''^ 

«'-» it%„«e«»4x^c;r:'"^™'^■"■'»• 
wb.tadreadfrlhtrr""""'''*'""'"'^^  O, 
didnotJBedow.    7IM '"T"''  '«  '<"»e  .    l' 

P«t  which  I  *«,  to  ZT,y,  \  ^"'^  •»  a/wlf  the      ■ 

*^  «f  theT^*'!'":'^  •' """^-tanden,  the 
H««ve« ,  What  .-.Tl  "^  **  "^  Superior.     "  o 

'^"""^oo""'?"    Whilst  I  w..p^- 


"•^  --i'ff 


Beugious  Mookirt- 


86 


\. 


nonncing  these  words,  I  was  seized  with  vertigo ;  I  fell  in  a 
gwoon  upon  my  bolster ;  a  general  coldness,  iii  which  my 
knees  shook,  and  my  teeth  chattered,  succeeded  the  swoon, 
and  this  coldness  was  followed  by  a  burning  heat..  My 
Blind  was  troubled.    I  do  not  remember  undressing  myself, 
nor  going  out  of  my  cell ;  but  I  was  found  nearly  naked, 
stretched  upon  the  ground,  at  the  door  of  the  Superior, 
motionless,  and  almost  dead.    I  have  learned  these  things 
since.    In  the  morning  I  found  myself  in  the  cell  with  the 
Superior,  the  mother  of  the  novices,  and  some  of  those 
whom  they  call  assistants,  round  my  bed.    I  was  much 
distressed.    They  put  some  questions  to  me  ;  they  saw  from 
py  answers  that  I  had  no  knowledge  pf  what  had  passed, 
and  they  did  not  tell  me  of  it.    They  asked  me  how  I  did ; 
if  I  persisted  in  mfholj  resolution,  and  if  I  found  myself  in 
a  condition  to  support  the  fatigue  of  the  day.    I  a^wered 
in  the  affirmative,  and,  contrary  to  their  expectation,  no 
derangement  of  the  plan  took  place. 

Everything  had  been  arranged  on  the  preceding  evening. 

They  rung  the  bells  to  let  the  world  know  that  they  were 

about'to  add  another  to  the  list  of  the  unfortunate.    They 

came  to  dress  me  ;  it  was  a  toUette  day.    Now  I  recollect 

all  these  c^remomps,  there  seems  to  be  in  them  something 

solemn  and  affecting  to  one  whoso  inclination  is  not  averse  to 

them.    They  conducted  me  to  the  church  ;  they  performed 

high  mass.    The  priest  who  gave  me  credit  for  a  resignation 

I  did  not  possess,  preached  a  long  sermon,  which  was  every 

word  inappUcable  to  me  j  there  was  a  sad  mockery  in  what 

he  said  of  my  happiness,  my  grace,  my  courage,  my  zeal,  my 


■% 


\i 


^Wi 


86 


.      '  •      '       "  'mU'. 
—        ;)  -  •  ■      ■    "■" 

-■,"■'     ■       ■  at:     . 

Thr  Altar  akd  thk  Victiii. 


.-4-,- 


\r 


I  felt    I„  .h.  ™.n,w^  ,t,  „,„^^^  ^^^^.^__  ' 

™»    ..  "»P,"?«M-«  .bo.t  ..take,  troabled  J    i 
™»  »«.«rere4  fcr  «  fo.  mo^nt,,  bat  anoetont,  did  ..t 

■        "eceswr,  to  comtifite  a  good  nan     aTTTIJ^       " 
moment  arriTed     wwi  f^  '  ""■  ^""^W 

•       .1,.    /^  - ''™  "  ™  nw^^'ry  for  me  to  enter 

.      .ie  P^c,  .here  I  wa.  U>UU  m,  vow,  I  oonM  not  ,1^  : 

hlTeT       '™"™'  "^^  ™  "^  "'■'  «™-  ^.  with  my 

.«nsidM„ghaand  sobbing?  bnr.tfcrO,,ifiiong,aich  iZ 
«1^  and  hanging  by  the  b«r,  of  the  raitog ,  a  ±tom 

"Do  you  promise  to  tell  the  troth?"  i 

"I  promise."  .     ' 

^■D.  yon  &me  h^  of  ,onr  ,„„_  .ccord,  «ith  go«. 

I  answered  "No*"  hnf  ^i,^..^     t 
-"wered  "Tes."       '  "ho  accompanied  „,      | 

aierr"""  ^^^oi  eh«Uty,  poverty,  and  ob..- 

"No""*^  .  moment-;  the  priert  waited,'«4  I  replied, 


/ 


:4 


:r 


I   AM  Looked  Up. 


m 


He  repeated, ,"  Do  you  promiBe  to  God  ehaatity,  poverty 

and  obedi/nce  ?"  • 

I  replied  in  a  firmer  tone,  "  No,.Bir,  no."  -^ 

'  He  /rtopped,  and  said  to  me,  "  RecoUeot  yourself,  my^ 

child,  and  listen  to  me." 

"  Sir,"  said  I  to  him,. "  you  ask  me  if  I  promise  to  God 

chastity,  poverty  and  obedience.  I  undtjstood  you  perfectly, 

and. I  answered  you.  No."    And  turning  round^to  the 

.bystanders,   among  whom   consideriible   murmuring   had 

arisen,  I  made  a  sign  that  I  wished  to  speak  ;  the  murmurs 

ceased,  and  I  said,  "Sirs,  and  you  in  particular,  my  father, 

I  take  you  all  to  witness  "-i-    When  I  uttered  these 

words,  one  of  the  sisters  let  fall  the  veil  over  the  railing, 

and  I'  q|iw  that  it  was  to  no  purpose  to  ^ak.    The.nuns 

surrounded  me,  and  loaded  me  with  reprc^iches:  I  heard 

them  without  sayiBg-a  word.    They  conducted  me  to  my* 

cell,  where  they  locked  me  in.  -  ♦ 

Being, left  ajone  to  my  reflections,  I  begto  to  take 

courage,  and  to  consider  my^  conduct  of  which  I  did  not 

repent.    I  fS0  thkt,  after  the  Wfeteiely  I  had  fdci^ned, 

it  was  impossible  I  ^jriJd  long  remwii  here,  and)that, 

perhaps,  they  wouldf  noi^dare  to  take  me  back  into  the 

convent    i  did  ndt|know  what  they  intended. to  do  wi^ 

me,  but  I  was  seiasible  there  was  nothing  worse  than  for 

one  to  become  a  nun  ieontrary  to  inclination.    I  lived  in 

confinement  without^hearing  a  single  word  from  any  person.^ 

Those  who  brought  kne  my  victiials  came  in,  put  my  dinnerj 

►wn  upon  the  floor,  and  went  away  without  speaking.    In 

aWt  a  i|pnth  thiy  brought  me  a  secular  hftbit,  when  I  put 


i 


1 


:^, 


»,    "v 


-Kr- 


,, 

o 

•i 

,J 

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*> 
^ 

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°     /.. 

li 

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■J 

"t^         ^ISS' 

.              '      ' 

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ffl      *', 

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t 

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tl 

If 

'■  ■'■'         <f,    " 

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/. 


I 


'•■  •"'  ( ■> 


88 


/ 


Teabs  and  Blood. 


fm 


^   oflF  that  of  the  house  ;  the  Saperior  came  and  told  me  to  fol- 
'low  her.   I  followed  her  to  the  do^or  of , the  convent,  and  was 
^hen  placed  in  a  carriage,  and  we  wer«  rapidly  driven  away 
We  continued  to  sit  opposite  eaeh  other  without  saying  a 
word  ;  I  kept  my  eyes  downward,  and  did  not  presume  to 
-  look  her  in  the  face.    I  know  not  what  passed  in  my  mmd, 
but  all  on  a  sudden  I  threw  myself  at  her  feet,  and  leaned 
wy  hei*  upon  her  knees  :  I  said  nothing,  but  sobbed  till  I 
.was  ahnost  stifled.  She  repelled  me  harshly,  without  speak- 
ing.  ^  I  did  not  rise :  the  blo^d  sprang  from  my  nose ;  I 
seized  one  of  her  hands  in  spite  of  her,  and  bathing  it  with 
a  stre&m  of  blood  and  tears,  putting  my  mouth  upon  her 
hand,  I  kissed  it,  and  said  to  her,  «  Oh  I  I  pray  you  be  a 
*  mother'  to  me ;  indeed,  I  need  one,  I  need  one  1''.         '  - 
She  answered  me,  pushing  me  from  her  with  great  vio- 
lence, and  teaHng  her  hand  from  between  mine  at  the  same 
time,  "Rise,  wretch, riser         - 

I  obeyed  her;  I  rose  up,  and  drew  my  hind  over  my 
face.    She  had  assumed  such  an  air  of  authority  and  stern- 
ness, that  I  dared  not  look  at  her.    My  tears  and  the  blood 
>hich  flowed  from  Iny.nose  mingling  together,  ran  down  my 
arms  till  I  was  all  besmeared  before  I  was  aware  of  it 
From  some  words  that  she  dropped,  I  conceived  that  her 
(  robe  and  linen  were  stained  with  it,  and  that  this  oflended 
her.    We  arrived  at  the  house,  where  I  was  conducted  to  a 
small  room  which  was  prepared  ftr  me.    1  threw  myseT 
down  upon  my  knees  on  the  staircase;  I  held  by  hiJr 
clothes;  butkU  that  I  could  obtain  from  h.r  w^  ^  .^^. 


^ 


«$-. 


^ptuous  cast  of  the  head,  with  an  expression  of  indigna. 


— ^ 


.^      •Tsi. 


I 

■J- 


-< 


Lead  Out  to  Mass. 


80 


tion  from  her  mouth  and  eyes,  which  you  can  conceive  better 
li|ian  I  can  describe,  y  '^ 

Centered  riiy  new  prison,  where  I  passed  six  months, 
soliciting  in  vain  the  favor  of  speaking  to  her,  or  s^ing  my 
faM»  o'  of  writipg  to  him.    I  was  served  with  provisions 
and  attended  :  a  domestic  accompanied  me  to  mass  on  holi- 
days, and  locked  me  up.    I  read,  I  worked,  I  wept,  I  sung, 
and  in  this  manner  did  I  pass  my  days.    A  secret  sentiment 
supported  me,  and  it  was  the  consciousness  that  I  was^free, 
and  that  my  lot,  crufel  as  it  was,  might  change,    But  it  was 
decided  that  I  was  to  be  a  nun,  and  I  was  one. 
"   ^    While  I  was  confined  in  the  houses  I  perforn«5d  few  exte- 
rior exercises  of  religion,  yet  I  was  always  sent  to  confession- 
on  the  eve  of  great  holidays.    I  conversed  with  my  confessor, 
I  explained  all  the  rigor  of  treatment  which  I  had  experienced 
from  my  father.    H^  was  acquainted  with  it  all.    I  com- 
plained with  bitterness  and  resentment.    This  priest  had 
entered  late  into  the  religious  state  ;  he  was  humane.    He 
heard  m6  with  tranquillity,  and  said  to  me,  "  My  cliild,  pity 
t   your  father;  pity  still  more  than  you  blame  him.    His  heart 
I    is  good  ;  be  assured  that  it  is  against  his  wUl  that  he  act^ 

^     in  this- manner."  : 

"Against  hifl  wUl,  sirl  and  who  can  constrain  him  to 
\  observe  this  conduct?  Did  he  not  give  mo  birth,  and 
\     what  difference  is  there  between  my  sisters  and  me  ?" 

V'"'  -"A  gpg^tdeair^^"~"'~:^"^"^"^~~""^'^'~^'r"~""""~'~^^ 
\       "I  do  not  understand  the  meaning  of  your  answer." 
I  wna  prnflflftding  with  ft  comparison  between  jny^tera 


W     1 

'I 


luid  myself,  when  he  stopped  me  and  said,  "  Go,  go ;  inhu- 


jSB 


^*.  .. 


■'lik. 


^ 


W- 


40 


More  PRoiasBa. 


Z  w"  "1  **  "'"^  "'  '°"P"»'  =  «»<""«  to  ""^ 
yoar  lot  mth  patie.ce,  and.  at  tot,  to  make  it  a  merit  ' 

before  Heayen.    I  wui  see  yoorfather,  «id  be  .«nped,  that 

to  «rve  yoa  I  wffl  ™e  aU  the  a^endeney  I  posBm  over  hie 

.^/„f  .^'  "'™'  ■"'"  "'''"'  '""'«"»»tion«i  wa, 
arayof  light. 


■  \ 


'%. 


a 


<r 


4^^       .        ( 


1    'iX:^ 


A  Visit. 


41 


t- ■■-.., -r.: 


«i 


HAPTi5R   III.       I 

Pather^The  Good  Sawrloif-A  Real  Friend— l^Bteflona  Inffluences-The-"  Mi«e- 
rere"—"MaceraUon"— Mother  of  the  Novices— The  Forced  Profesrion-r-Tho 
Deathof  myFriend-Jemilts  and  Sntapiciaiui— The  Hair-dotha  and  isconrgea— 
Mutiny— Smfplciona  Intimacy— The  Old  Well. 

THE  Saturday  following,  about  half-past  'fire  in  the 
evening,  when  the  day  was  ahnost  gone,  the  servant 
girl  who  was  employed  to  attend  me,  came  up  stairs  and 

said :  "  Miss ,  the  Mother  ISuperior  says  that  you  must 

dresj,"  An  hour  afti^,  "Madam  says  that  you  lyust  go 
down  Bt^^pRtb  me.»*^ijt  th^  door  I  found  a  coach,  which 
the  servant  and  I  entered,  e/f^A  I  learned  that  we  were 
going  to  Father  - — .  He  eWted  us,  and  was  alone. 
My  attendant  retired,  and  I  entered  the  apartment.  I  sat 
down,  unefty  and  curious  to  heaijwhat  he  had  to  tell  me. 
He  spoke  to  me  as  follows :         / 

"You  refuse  a  convent;  peAaps  you  will  regret  that 

you  are  not  there."  / 

"That  is  impossible,  sir  ;  I  4sk  nothing." 

"  You  do  not  yet  know  haWshipfr,  labor,  indigence." 

"  I  know,  at  least,  the  vAlue  of  liberty,  and  the  import* 

ance  of  a  situation  which /We  are  not  called  upon  to  em> 


brace." 


,  % 


^^^-' 


jf^ 


■ti' 


•^ 
* 


r 


%iiJ^ikiiAAXiM.^ 


■" .   \  -  ■ 


43 


Strange  Advici 


Myoa,Misa,tomakeyoDrreaectioos»  ' 

He  then  r<«e.    -.gir,  yet  one  qnestion  more.v  . 
As  many  as  yoa  please  " 

ri^r'  y;  "^^  *'' """  """e'"  """"i™  to  the. 

resohtion  of  plnndering  their  aster  P' 

"Ah,  Miss,  interest  I  interest  I  They  conid  not  other- 
^«h.„  Obtained  the  considerable  n.arri;ge,  theyt" 
-^™ed.    m  the  world,  .Ue„.sider  themieives  only,  „d  I  , 

.  ^"s,  yon  not  to  reol^on  npon  then,  if  yon  lose  yoor  ;^ent 
Be  assnr^l  they  ,ii,  dispnte  to  a  farthing,  the  ,«"  ^I" 

.  fen  Th«  pretext  will  be.snmeiently  plansibl.  to  redne, 
Jon  to>ggary.  Besides,  it  i,  no  longer  in  yonrf,twI 
power  to  do  anything.  The  bre«i  of  charity,  L,,  wt^ 
«,y  nnpalatable.  If  y,,  .^^  ^  ^^^  '  «-;« 
reconcd,  yonrself  i^  yonr  condition ,  yon  wUl  ent^  a  Z 
vent ;  a  small  snn.  will  be  settled  npon  yon,  with  which  yoa. 
mU  pass  yonr  days,,  if  not  happily,  .t  l«.st  tolerably.  Go 
M«s,  yon  are  Tirtnons  «,d  considerate ,  reS^ect  npon  what, 
yon  have  now  heard."  •■  .        -■  :-, 

I  ro».  and  bnrst  inta<tears.    I  saw  that  the  father  Mm.'" 
Zl  *■""  ™"™^  '  "«  ""V  »i»d  hi.  eyes  to  heaven,  aid  "     , 
>1  m.  bick.    I  rejoined  the  domestic  who  harfaccom-  -  ■ 
P«med  m, ;  wo  entered  the  CMriage.  and  retnraed  to  the 
to.». ;  it  was  bte ,  I  mosed  fo^  .  part  of  tl..  ..y..  ^ 


r '■-^-""■- — ~^ ■    ly-  '- 


Submission. 


43 


..  ) 


that  which  had  been  said  to  me.  I  continued  to  think  npon 
it  in  the  course  of  the  next  day.  But  I  was  in,  a  rigid 
domestic  captivity,  without  hope,  Without  resource.  ]^- 
haps  some  one  might  have  been  fpnnd  to  whom  my  charae^ 
ter,  my  spirit,  my  figure,  my  talents;  wodd  have  appeared 
a  sufficient  dowry.  The  thing  was  not  Vet  impossible,  but 
the  observation  I  had  excited  in  the  convent.  Tendered  it 
jnorc  unlikely.    It  was  not  easy  to  be  coiiceived,  that  *  girl 

of -years  of  age  could  proceed  to  such  extremities, 

without  a  firmness  very  uncommon.  ^    ^ 

I  shut  myself  up  in  my  cell.  I  dropped  down  upon  my 
knees  ;  I  prayed  the  Deity  to  instruct  me,  I  prayed  long  ; 
I,  remained  with  my  face  fixed  to  the  ground.  W©  seldom 
invoke  the  voice  of  Heaven,  but  when  v<d  are  iii  a  state  of 
doubt,  and  it  almost  always  advises  lis  to  obey.  This  was 
the  alternative  I  embraced.  "My  father  wishes  me  to 
become  a*inn  ;  perhaps,  too,  it  is  tiie  wil  of  Heaven  ;  alas  I 
I  will  be  one  ;  since  I  am  to  be  wretchel,  of  what  iniport- 
ance  is  it  where  I  am?"     I  immedistely  wrote  to  the 

»  -  ■  ' 

Mother  Superior,  informing  her  of  my  determination,  and 
,  requesting  to  be  sent  to  another  house,  as  a  change  of  sce^e  , 
would,.!  thought,  benefit  me.        -  ^.,-  .  '  "s 

For  a  whole  fortmght  I  heard  nothing  upon  the  si^hject ; 
I  supposed  that  they  had  applied  to  different  religious 
houses,,  and  that  the  soandal  my  conduct  had  excited  pre- 
vented my  being  received  in  the  situation  of  a  candidatq^ 
They  were  less  scrupulous  at  — —,  doubtless  because  it  was 
insinuated  to  them  that  I  understood  music,  and  had  agooi 


''*■'■'  '  ■'■i_ 


r 


Toice.    The  difficulties  wEa^STlSeen^nCKJanteTednsr 


T 


J/t<:-nHI0-. 


-.     JSi  '" 


u 


^\ 


SoNo  OF  THE  Imprisoned  JSjrd. 


-       tte  favor  I  receiTed  in  being  admitfed  into  this  fionae  were 
greatly  exaggerated  ;  1  waseyen  prevailed  upon  to'write 
to  t^e  Superior.  ^I  was  not  .aware  of  the  consequences  of 
the  evidence  furnished  by  writing,  which  was  required  of  me  • 
they,  too,  were  afraid,  it  would  s6em,  that  I  might  one  day 
retract  my  vows  ;  they  wished  to  We  an  attestation  under 
'      °iy  own  hand  that  they  had  been  voluntary.    I  was^on- 
ducted^to  -^ ,  accompanied  by  my  father  j  I  did  not  even 
ask  leave  to>id  adieu  ;  the  thought  pf.it,  I  confess,  never 

"^^f^^^^  Iwasexpected;   Iwas 

introduced  by^my  tfistory,  anc^  bj  my  talents.    They  said 

nothmg  to  me  ^f.  the.  one,  but  they  were  eager  to  i^certain 

Whether  the  acquaintance  they  had  mj^^e  was  Qt,«^JmpoE. 

tance.    After  they  had  talked  of  »/^^  of  indifferent 

thmgs  (for  after  what  had  happened  you  may  weU  imaglke 

that  they  neither  spoke  to  me  of  Heaven,  nor  of  my  ceU  of 

the  dangers  of  the  .world,'  nor  of  the  calmness  of-a  reUgLus 

^  Me;  and  that  they  did  not  venture  to  utW„ ,  singte  word 

of  that  pious  common-place^talk  in  which  tfieso  first  lioinents 

are  generally  employed),  the  Superio;  said,  "Miss,  yoil 

understand  music,  you  sing;  we  have  a  pianoforte.    Ifyol 

please  w^wm  go  to  the  p^lor."    My  soul  was  wrung  4h 

agony,  but  this  was  not  the  time  to  display  reluctance ;  my 

father  went  firsTi  foUowed,  and  the  Superior  closed  the 

train, /with  some  nmis  whom  curi6sity  had  attracted     It 

.was  Alight.    They  brought  candles.    I  sat  down  at  the 

piai^,    I  made  a  great  many  flourishes  while  endeavorinir 

to  recoUect  a  piece  of  misic,  of  which  I  had  pleniy,  and  yet 

1  could  not  hit  upon  one  ;  the  Superior,  however,  pressed 


'    1 


4 


S   V. 


i/9*l   ',  \  ' 


A  Good  Superiob. 


45 


me,  and/ by  mere  habit,  becanse  the  piece  was  familiar  to 
me,  I  Bang  *'  Sad  array,  flambeaux  pale,  day  more  dismal 
ihan  tbe  night,"  &c.  I  do  not  know  what  effect  this  pro- 
duced, fbnt  they  did  not  listen  to  ifle  Ipng  j  I  wasjjiter- 
r;apted'  by  praises  which  I  was  a  good  deal  surprised  to  have 
merited  so  soon,  and  vat  so  little  expense.  My  father  con- 
signed md  ±0  the  care  of  the  Superior,  gave  me  his  hand  to 
kiss,  »nd  departed.  V  *  ^ 

^     I/wa»  now  in  another  house ;  ,a  nim,  a  candidate  for 
adnnssion,  and  with  ev^ry  appearance  of  soliciting  this 
admission  from  the  unbiased  inelination  of  my  Own  will. 
The  Superiors   at— — ,  as  w^-^ '^^  ™^^  ^®^i^^°5^ 


, „.jj 


rijo^ises/clrapge  every  three  years.    It  was  a  Madame  — — 

who  entered  upon  the  charge  when  I  was  conducted  to  the 

h)buse  ;  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  speak  too  highly  of  hcg: ; 

Vet  hjgr  goodness  proved  my  ruin.    She  was  ^  Woman  of 

sense,  and  acquaintled  with  the  human  heart.    She  could . 

/make  allowances,  though  nobody  had  less  occasion  for  it,  for 

/  we  all  were  her  children.    She  never  saw  faults  but  those 

/  of  which  she  could  not  help  taking  notice,  or  the  importance 

/  of  which  could  not  be  overlooked.    I  speak  of  her  without 

'  interest.  *I  discharged  my  duty  with  exactness,  and  she  did 

me  the  justice  to  say  that  I  committed  no  fault  which  she 

had  to  punish  or  to  pardon.    If  she  had  any  predilections, 

'    they  were  inspired  by  merit.    After  this  I  do  not  know  if  I 

.  -ou^t  to  say  that  she  loved  me  tenderly,  and  that  I  was  not 

the  least  of  her  favorites.    I  know  that  is  a  high  panegyric 

^  bestow  upon  myself,  greater  than  tfiose  can  imagine^ 

who  never  knew  her.    The  uame  Of  the  favorite  is  that 


\ 


■/ 


-^--^ 


m- 


46 


^A  Discerning  Mind. 


w- 


which  the  rest  mvidiously  bestow  npon  those  who 'are  best 
beloved  by  the  Snperior.  If  there  was  any  defect  with 
^ch  I  co,ald  reproach  Madame— — ,  it  was  that  her  taste 
lor  lirtae,  i)iety,  candor,  gentleness,  talents,  honor,  induced 
her  to  give  a  marked  preference  to  those  who  possessed 
them  ;  and  that  she  knew  well  that  those  who  eoald  not 
pretend  to  these  qualities  wer^nt  the  more  humbled  by 
her  conduct.  She  likewise  possessed  the  faculty,  perhaps 
more  frequent  in  convents  than  in  the  world,  of  a  prompt 
discernment  of  minds.  It  rarely  happened  that  a  nun,  who 
did  not  please  her  at  first,  ever  proved  agfeeable  to  Iter 
afterwards.  She-qnickly  took  me  into  her  favor,  and  from, 
the  very  beginnii\g  I  reposed  the  inost  perfect  confidence  in 
her.  Unfortunate  were  those  from  whom  she  could  not 
extract  it  without  effort ;  they  must  have  been  bad  without 
resource,  and  conscious  of  their  misfortune.  She  talked  to 
me  of  my  adventure  at  St.  Mary's.  I  related  it  to  her 
with  as  little  disguise  as  I  now  tell  it.  .1  toldjier  every- 
thing I  have  now  written  ;  nothing  was  forgotteti.  She 
lamented  my  fate,  comforted  me,  and  painted  more  Bgreeable 
prospects  to  my  hopes.  Meanwhile  the  period  of  my  candi- 
dateship  elapsed,  that  of  my  assuming  |he  habit  arrived, 
and  I  tdpk  it.  I  performed  my  novitiate  without  aversion. 
I  passed  rapidly  over  those  two  years,  because  they  con- 
tained nothing  jfnelancholy  to  me,  but  the  secret  feelmg  that 
I  was  slowly  approaching  a  state-for  which  I  was  not  fo|:med.. 
Sometimes  this  feelingb  was  renewed  with  violence,  and 
whenever  this  happened,  I  recurred  to  my  good  Superior, 
who  embraced  |ne,  who  unbosomed  my  soul,  who  displayed 

"^      :    '  -  ■   .   .  .>  -.  ..    ■    ; 


w 


n-N 


1.  \ .  ■ 


^ 


MtSTKBIOVS    iNfLUENOtS. 


4t 


Her  (urgameats  with  force,  ^xt|jf.\waJB  concladed  with  saying, 
**  %xA  have  not  other  sitaations  their  crosses  ?    We  are 
ajl^tc^  be  sensible  only  of  our  own.    Come,  my  child,  Jet  us 
fall  ij^n  our  knees  and  ptay."    She  then  knelt  down  and 
<^raye^  aloud,  but  with  so  Souch  unction,  eloquence,  mild- 
inesa,  eleyation,  and  force,  thit  you  would  have  said  that  • 
.ih^"  was  inspired,  by  the  Spirit  4a:f;Heaveq.    Her  thoughts, 
.her  expressions,  her  images,  penetrated  to  the  very  bottom 
of  the  heart;  at  first  you,liatfinfid ;  by  degrees  you  were 
elevated,  you  were  united  with  her  ;  the  soul  was  filled,  and 
you  partook  her  transports.    Her  desi^  was  not  tas^ucci  ; 
but  certainly  this  she  accomplished.    W«  left  her  with  a 
heart  enraptured,  odtr  countenances  displays  joy  and  ecstasy 
—we  ^hed  delightful  tears.    It  was  an  impression  which 
she  herself  ^ok,  which  she  long  retained,  and  which  those 
'    to  whom  it  was  communicated  likewise  preserved. 

It  is  not  to  my  own  experience  that  I  refer,  it  is  to  that 
.  of  all  the  nuns.  Some  of  them  told  me  that  they  have  felt 
the  want  of  her  consolation  as  the  absence  of  an  exquisite 
pleasure ;  and  I  believe  I  required  only  a  little  more  expe- 
rience to  reach  that  point.  Nevertheless,  kt  the  approach 
of  my  profession,  I  experienced  a^melancholy  so  profound 
that  it.  exposed  my  good  Superior  to  severe  trials.  Her 
talents  forsook  her;  she  herself*' acknowledged  it  to  me. 
"  I  do  not  know,"  said  she,  "  what  passes  within  me  ;  it 
.seems  when  you  come  as  if  the  Deity  retired,  and  His  spirit 
were  silent.  It  is  m  vain  that  I  animate  myself,  that  I  seek 
ideas,  that  I  attempt  to  exalt  my  soul ;  I  feel  myself  an 
ordinary  and  hnmble  woman.    I  em  afraid  to  speak." 


V 


..           .-l 

•v'.'^  **.-■■ 

,..,   -y    .  ,, 

\ 


'vwc^r'""ip'^EW,'?^'S?fW ' 


48 


The  Spirit  Departs. 


'  u 


"  Ah  !  my  dear  mother,"  said  I,  "  what  presentiment  I  if 
it  were  Heaven  that  rendered  yon  damb  P  ^ 

One  day  that  I  felt  myself  more  ancertain  and  more 
depressed  than  ever,  I  went  to  her  cell ;  my  presence  at 
first  rendered  her  speechless  ;  it  seemed  that  she  read  in  my 
eyes,  in  my  whole  person,  that  the  profound  sentiment  I 
carried  within  me  was  beyond  her  strength,  and  she  was 
onwilMg  to  straggle  without  the  certainty  of  being  victo- 
riOQS.  Nevertheless  she  made  the  attempt ;  bj  degrees  she 
warmed  ;  in  proportion  as  my  sorrow  subsided,  h^r  enthu- 
siasm increased.  She  threw  herself  suddenly  upon  her 
knees  ;  I  followed  her  example,  I  imagined  that  I  was  to 
partake  her  transports  ;  I  wished  it.  She  pronounced  some 
words,  then  all  at  once  she  was  silent  I  I  waited  in  vain^ 
sh,e  spoke  no  more  ;  she  rose,  burst  into  tears,  took  me  by 
the  hand,  and  squeezing  it  between  hers  :  ^ 

/  "  Oh,  my  dear  child,"  said  she, ''  what  a  cruel  effect  have 
you  produced  upon  me  I  Observe  J;he  consequence,  the 
-Spirit  has  withdrawn— I  feel  it ;  go,  let  the  Deity  speak  to 
you  Hunself,  since  it  Iep  not  His  pleasure  to  communicate 
Himself  by  me."  '  v 

In  reality,  I  know  not  what  had  passed  within. her; 
whether  I  had  inspired  her  with  a  distrust  of  her  powers 
which  had  never  been  removed,  'whether  I  had  rendere.d  her 
timid,  or  really  broken  her -correspondence  with  Heaven, 
,  but  the  talent  of  consolation  returned,  to  tier  no  more. 
Upon  the  ere  of  my  profession  I  went  to  see  her.  She 
labored  under  a  melancholy  equal  to  my  own.    I  wept, 


■^1 


and  so  did  she ;  I  threw  myself  at  her  feet,  she  blessed  me, 


ll^ 


I     "f 


/" 


The  Spirit  Imyokkd. 


49 


*^  '  .A 

she  raised  me^  npf^she  embraced  me,  and  again  seilt  me 
away,  saying:  /J 

"  I  am  weary  of  life,  I  wish  to  die  j  I  have  asked  of  the 
Deity  never  t6  see  this  day,  but  it  is  not  Hia  will.  Go,  I 
will  pass  the  night  in  prayer  ;  pray  also,  but  go  to  bed,  I 
command  you.'' 

"  Allow  me,"  answered  I,  "to  join  you."  ^^ 

"  I  allow  you  from  nme  o'clbck  till  eleven ;  no  mor^. 
At  half-past  nine  o'clod^  I  will  b^gin  to  pray,  and  you  will 
begin  alfio ;  but  at  elevln  o'clodc  you  will  allow  mflLj;o  pray 
alone,  fcnd  you  will  t%ke  repose.  Go,  dear  child,  f  ^hall 
watch  b^re  Heaven  the  remainder  of  the  night." 

She  wished  to  pray,  but  could  not.  I  slept,  and  in  the 
mentune  this  holy  woman  went  through  the  passages, 
knockmg  at  every  door;  she  awoke  the  nuns,  and  made 
them  go  down  without  noise  to  the  church.  All  of  them 
repaired  thither^  and  when  there,  she  invited  them  to  address 
themselves  to  Heaven  in  my  favor.  Hbh  prayer  was  made 
m  8ilen<:e  ;  then  she  extinguished  the  lights,  all  repeated  to- 
gether, the  Miserere,  except  the  Supfjrior,  who,  prostrate  at 
the  foot  of  the  altar,  macerated  herself  in  a  cruel\nanner, 

sayii^:   ■;:■;  ,-''  /*■,;  \-;;''..;;,;,,^;',...:'---.:;«. /..;  ■;,    _'■■.  ^ 

"0  Heavenly  Father,  if  it  is  for  an^fault  which  I^ave 
committed  that  you  \^ftve  departed  from  me,  gnugit  me  u>r« 
^veness  I  I  do  not  ask  you  to  restore  me  Ihe  gift  of  whi^h 
L /you  have  deprived  me,  but  that  ydu  would  address  yourself 
to  this  innocent/ who  sleeps  while  I  here  invoke  you  in  her 
favor.  Oh  I  Father  speak  to  her,  and  forgiye  me." 
The  nexTdi^,  early  InTm^jnioming,  she  entered  niy  vt^ 


*  \ 


'^' 


VJ*' 


.'jviv 


V    .M 


r-\ 


60 


THE^TRUaoipE. 


\ 


^ 


I  did  not  hear  her,  being  not  yef  4^wake.  She  sat  down  by 
my  bed-side,  and  laid  one  of  heS  hands  gently  on  my  fore- 
n^ead.  She  gazed  upon  me;  disquietude,  agitation,  and 
BorrdiM?cceeded  upon  her  coun4nance,  andjuch  was  the 
Appearance^^  exhibited  to  me  when  I  opened  my  eyes. 
She  did  not  mention  to  mewh«rhad  passed  during  the 
night,  she  only  asked,  "If  I  had  gone  to  bed  early?"  I 
answered,  "At  the  hour  you  commanded  me."  "  If  I  had 
rested?"  "Profoundly."  "I  expected  so.  How  was  I?" 
V"  Very  well    And  you,  my  dear  mother  ?" 

"  Alas?"  said  she,  "|  never  without'Sisquietude  saw  fin^ 
person  take  the  vows ;  but  I  never  experienced  so  much 
anxiety  about  any  one  as  about  you ;  I  wish  sincerely  that 
you  may  berl^^^."        .^..,i 

"  If  you  conS^  to  love  me,  I  shall  be  happy." 
"  Ah  1  did  it  but  depend  upon  that  1    Have  you  thought 
of  nothing  during  the  night  r 

"No."  ''  '  Jl  ^ 

"You  have  had  no  dream?"        — — - 

v'/M.Koae."    ■•  •     «     *■•  .^  -     , 

^'  What  paM»s  at  present  in  your  mmd  ?" 
"I  am  stupid  ;  I  yield  tp  my  fate  with  repugnance  ;  t 
feel  that  necessity  hurries  me  on,  and  I  allow  myself  to  go.. 
Ah  I  my  dear  mother,  I  feel  none  of  that  mild  joy,  that 
thrilling  sensation,  that  melancholy,  that  gentle^  perturba- 
tion, which  r  havA  somethnes  remarked  in  those  who  stood 
in  my  prffiftnit  Bitfn4*^^''on.  T  am  weak ;  I  cannot  even  weep^ 
That  it;  is  ike  desire  of  my  father  it  must  bej  done  is  the 
only  idea  which  occupies  me.    But  you  say  notog  to  me." 


r 


If 


:,Tn    i- 


-.       ^ 


■\- 


'"^-T^""^    'J " /Dl*^       "     ''I'^P*' 


Thb  Prophwbsb. 


61. 


..  I  ,m  not  come  to  dJscourW  »ith  yoa,  bat  to  Bee  and  to 

he«  TOO.    Eode.Tor  not  to  agitate  n.e,  nllow  my  feelings 

to  work  np  in  my  mind  j  when  it  i.  Wi  I  will  go  aw.y.    I 
mnrt  b.  .aent,  I  know  mjBelf  i  I  U.V,  but  one  .m#»,  and 

I  mnetnoft  waste  itBBttength  with  yon.    Kep«e  wMe  my  — 
ti.it  l«t»i  say  only,  tew  worda,  and  rilow^n..  to  ^d 
.  here  wtai  I  am  com.  to  seek,  vl  wUl  go,  and  God  wUl  per-, 

form  the  rest." 4 ,  , ,    _4r*« 

I  was  saent ;  I  leaned  upoa  my  pillow,  and  held  ort  to 
-Aer  on.  of  my  hwds,  which  she  took ;  sh.  seemed  Jo  mM.- 
Xte  deeply  i  she  stndionsly  kept  W  eyes  shnt  •,  .omet.m« 
openrf  them,  nused  them  to  heaven,  and  .g«n  settled 
thl  npon  m. ;  her  sonl  was  filled  with  tnmnlt  j  she  be-      . 
eame  composed,  and  again  h«  agitation  retnpned.    In 
.•    ttnth,thiswom.i.wasbomtobe  aprophet«s;shehad 

th.  c^nt.nanc  and  character  of  <m.    She  had  b«n  bea^  . 

p^tM  larg.  wrinkle  upon  her  face,  ^^f"^^"^,. 
L  to  b«  physiognomy.    Sh.  had  smaU  ey».  bnt^tt^^^ 
^ed  dther  to  look  inwards  «p«.  ^^,  -^'^  »^" 
Tobjects  by  which  she  was  snrronnd«^,  and  ^  jat»^ 
beyond  them-into  the  past  ot  int.  the  fntnre.    She 
abruptly  asked  what  o'clock  it  was.       .  I      .     ■ 

"  itonnC «•  "O-^S  to  dress  yon  !  I  do  not  wish 

to  be  pr«»t,ltwonld  .BsS*«t.»>-Mr'»«rrS'*° 
pre«««mo4«rtioniB'Se  first  moments."        . 

^Ohr1^.....y«o.eont,whena.^t^^^ 


it- 


.■I. 


mm 


/        ^ 


'  / 


'  / , 


'/    v^/. 


'■/'  ^. 


/ 

/ 


62 


The  Involuntary  Nun. 


'^i\ 


of  th^religioas  habit,  *fid  dressed  me  ii  the  clothes  common 
in  the  world  j  it  is  the  custom,  as  yon  know.    I  heard 
nothmg  of  what  was  said  aroimd  me  ;  I  was  reduced  almost 
to  an  automaton.    They  told  me  what  it  Was  necessary  to 
dot:^  they  were  often  obliged  to  repeat  ij;  to  me,  for  I  never 
^.  ^hewd  the  first  time,  and. this  proceeded  not  from  my  think- 
^   ing"ni?c^  ^ome  other  subject,  but  because  I  was  absorbed. 
My  head  was  fatigued,  as  if  it  had  been  by  excessive  reflec- 
.tion.    In  the  meantime,  the  Superior  was  conversing  with 
my  father  ;  I  never  knew  what  passed  at  this  long  inter- 
. ,  view ;  I  was  told  only  that  when  they  separated,  my  father 
was  so  embarrassed  that  he  could  not  find  the  door  by 
whi^iJi'he  came  in,  and  that  the  Superior  went  out  with  her 
hands  locked,  and  fixed  against  her  brow. 

The  clock  struck ;  I  went  down.    The  assembly  was  ntot 
numerous.    A  sermon  wtis  preached,  but  I  did  not  hear  a 
word  of  it.    They  disposed  of  me  Wl  this  morning  as  they 
pleased,  for  I  was  insensible  of  its  lapse.    I  neither  knew  • 
what  was  done  nbr  what  was  said.    They  no  doubt  inters 
jogated  me;  I  no  doubt  answered.    J  pronounced  some 
vows,  but  I  have  no  recoUection  of  them,  and  I  became  a 
nun  as  unconscionsly  atf  I  was  made  a  Christian.    I  no 
more  comprehended  the  ceremony  of  my  profession  than 
that  of  my^nf)tism.    I  was  in  such  a  state  of  profound 
melancholy,  that  some  dayS^^  after,  when  they  announced  t$  ' 
me  that  I  belonged  to  their  order,  I  did  not  know  what 
they  meant    I  asked  if  it  was  reaUy  true  that  I  had  made 
profession.    I  wished  to  see  the  signatures  ,yf  my  vows. 
Not. contented  with  these  proofs  I  made  them  bring  the 


):', 


*■ 


/ 


A     The  Sad  A^iJCENiNO. 


63 


attestation  of  the  whole  commanity,  and  that  of  some 
strangers  whom  tl^y  had  invited  to  the  ceremony.  Ad- 
dressing myself  several  tunes  to  the  SoperiopJ  sl^d  to  her, 

"  Is  this  then  really  the  case  ?" 

I  expected  always  that  she  was  gomg  to  'answer,  "Ko, 
ray  child ;  they  deceive  yon."  Her  repeated  assurances 
could  not  convmce  me.  I  ctfnld  not  believe  that  ia  the 
space  of  a  whole  day,  so  bustling,  so  varie^,  so  crowded 
with  singular  and  striking  circumstances,  I  .could  not 
remember  One,  not  even  the  countenance  of  those  who 
attended  me,  nor  that  of  either  the  priest  who  preached,  or 
of  him  who  received  my  vows.  The  changilig  of  my  reli- 
I  gions  dress  for  that  pf  the  world  is  the  only  thing  which  I 
redbllect^;  from  that  moment  I  was  insensible.  It  i^as 
some  months  before  I  recovered  from  this  state,  and  it  is  to 
this  protracted  kind  of  convalescence  that  I  ascribe  my  pro- 
found forgetfulness  of  what  is  past ;  like,  those  wha  in  the 
course  of  ft  tedious  illness  have  talked  insensibly,  and  re-' 
ceived  the  Sacrament,  but  who,  after  they  have  been  res- 
tored' to  health,  have  no  memory  of  the  isircumatances.  I 
have  seen  many  instances  of  it  in  our  hoiue,  and  I  have  said 
to  myself,  "  This  is,  probably,  what  happened  to  me  on  the 
day  of  my  profession."  But  it  remains  to  be  inquired 
whether  thdse  actiona  are  really  performed  by  the  person, 
though  they  appeal  to  be  so.     ♦^^.*^^^^  ♦     *     * 

I  was  soon  destined  to  suffer  a  severe  affliction  in  the  loss 
of  my  dear  friend,  the  mother  Superior.  She  had  long  felfc 
her  hour  approaching  {  she  condemned  herself  to  silence  ; 
she  ordered  her  eoffin  to  be  brought  into  her  chamber.    Sho 


}■■ , 


".■■■  /■ 

e  ..-    , 
■  ■<- 

^' 


/^ 


54 


1?HB  DxiNO  Superior. 


had  lost  lier  power  of  sleeping,  and  had  passed  her  days  and 
nights  in  meditation.     ^ 

At  the  approach  ofdeath  she  ordered  herself  to  be 
dressed ;  she  was  laid  upon  a  bed ;  they  administered  to* 
•her  the  last  Sacrament ;  she  held  a  crucifix  in  her  hands. 
We  were  around  her  j  we  shed  tears ;  her  cell  resounded 
with  cries.  ^  All  on  a  suaden  her  eyes  ^Mwkled,  she  raised  _ 
herself  up  hastUy  and  spokft ;  her  voice  was  almost  as  strong 
as  it  was  when  she  was  in  health.    She  reproached  us  for 
our  tears,  which  seemed  to  envy  her  eternal  feUcity.    "  My 
chUdren,  your  grief, is  mistimed ;  it  is  there,  it  is  there," 
'  said  she,  pointing  to  the  heavens,  1'  that  I  shaU  be  of  service 
to  you  ;  my  eyes  shaU  rest  perpetuaUy  upon  this  house  ;  I 
wiU  intercede  for  you,  and  I  shaU  be  heard.-  Come  nearer, 
f-  all  of  you,  that  I  may  embrace  you.    Come  and  receive  my 
blessings  and  last  adieus."    When  she  wa^  uttering  thise 
words  this  singular  woman,  who  has  left  behind  her  never- 
encUng  regrets,  departed.  / 

"  Sister  Saint  ■ :  cucceeded  Mother .    But  oh  I 

what  a  difference  between  theone  and  the  other  I  I  have 
told  you  what  a  woman  the  latter  was.  The  former  held  an 
insignificant  character,  her  mind  was  narrow  and  supersti^ 
tious,  she  gave  in  to  new  opinions,  she  conferred  with 
Sulspidans  and  Jesuits.  She  took  an  aversion  to  aU  her 
predecessor's  favorites :  the  house  instantly  became  a  scene 
of  disturbanqe;  animosities,  calumnies,  slanders,  accusations, 
and  persecutions  ;  we  had  .to  discuss  theological  questions 
which  we  did  not  understand,  to  subscribe  to  formulas,  and 
to  conform  to  singular  practises.     Mother :^did  not 


^ 


My  Rebelmon.    i 

approTe  of  thU  pemtentiia  exerdses  which  concerned  the 
body  ;  she  maceiated  herself  only  twice  in  the  course  of  her 
life^nce  on  theUve  of  iny  profession,  and  another  time  on 
a  similar  occasioi    She  used  to  say  of  these  penances  that 
they  corrected  ni  fault,  that  they  Orif  served  as  a  gr^nf 
of  pride.    Her  disire  was  that  her  wuns  should  behav^Jl, 
and  that  they  sholld  keep  their  bodies  sound  and  their  i^ds    ^ 
tranqml     The  fiAt  thing  she  did  when  she  entered  upon  her 
change  was  to  maie  them  bring  her  all  the  hi^r-clothes  and 
scciWes,  and  to  jorbid  them  to  spoil  their  food  with  ashes, 
to  hi  on  hard  bek  or  to  provide  themselves  with  any  of     : 
ttstrunient^    Her  successor,  on  the  contrary,  sent 

„  her  hair-cloth  and  tar-scourge.    The  / 
Evorites  \f  the  firmer  were  not  the  ffl^rites  of  the  suc- 
ceeding relk    tA»  existing  Superior  was  indiflferent  to  m<^ 
to  say  no  WOTte,  blcause  I'had  been  beloved  by  her  prede- 
'cessor,  but  I  w\iot  long  in  embittering  my  lot,  by  some 
actions  which  yo\\will  call  either  imprudent  or  spirited, 
according  to  ttie  Ugk  in  which  yon  view  them.  '  In  the  first 
'  place,  I  wholly  abaidbnedmyseU  to  the  grief  which,!  felt 
for  the  loss  of  our  \or\er  Superior,  praised  her  upon  all 
occasions,  and  suggeited  Vparisiohs  between  her  and  the 
present  governess,  wl\ch  were  not-  favorable  to  the  latter  ; 
described  the  state  oA  the  ho^se  for  years  past,  recalled  to 
their  recollection  the  p\ace  we  enjoyed  and  the  nourishment, 
both  spiritual  and  tempWal,  whic^was  then  administered  to 
us  ;  everything,  in  fine.  Which  tended  to  exalt  the  morals, 

the  feeUngs,  and  the  chaiacter  of  Sibter .    Secondly,  I 

'*    cast  my  hairndoth  into Jhe  fire.  t%ew  away  my  scourge. 


-/■■ 


Bfc 


r 


Others  Bsbbl. 


preached  to  my  frien#  Upon  the  siibject,  and  engaged  some 
of  them  to  follow  my  example. /The  thurd  thing  I  did  was 
to  provide  myself  with  the  O^i  m^  New  Testament ;  the 
foarth'  to  renonnce  Ull  partie/ and  to  abide  by  the  naihe  of 


enoi 
Tfii 


i 


Christian.  The  fifth  was,  Strictly  to  regoIal^Q  my  conduct 
•by  the  rules  of  the  house,  without  either'wisbing  to*do  more 
or  less  than  they  requir^,  «nd  consequently  not  to -perform 
any 'work  of  superero^an^n,  those  of  obligation  appearing 
to  i|^e  to  be  more  than  suflScient ;  not  to  mount  to  the 
organ  except  on  )lblidajrs  ;  not  to  sing  except  when  I  Was 
of  the  choir,  and  no  longer  tp  suffer  |ihem  to  abuse  my  com- 
plaisance and  my  talent,  by  setting  me  to  do  .everjrthing  at 
all  tunes.  I  read  theur  constitution  over  and  ayer  i^ain  yj.  ' 
learned  it^y  he^rt-;  if  they  ordered  ^le  to  do  anythingf 
which  was  either  not^clearlj  es^ressedxor  was  omitted,  or 
which  appeared  to  me^to  be  contrary  toN^at  was  there 
enjoined,  1  would  firmly  refuse,  to  •comply.  dNrould  take . 
the  book  and  say,  'These  are  j^be  engagements  thatJ  have  - 
taken,  and  I  haye  1;aken  ap  others.'  My  discourses  m^e 
some  converts.  The  authority  of  the  mislyrcsses  was  limiieoV 
they  could  no  longer  dispose,  of  us  like  slaves.  Not  a  day 
pasked  without  some  scene  of ^  notoriety.  In  cases  oif  un- 
certainty, my  compuiionyame  to  consult  me,  and  I  always 
toi^k  part  against  dei^tism.  I  had  soon  the  air  of  » 
factious  person,  and  perhaps  X  acted  the  part  of  one.  The 
agents  of  the  Archbishop  were  continually  called  in.  I 
^ppeareA,  I  defended  myself,  I  defended  my  companions  ; 
and  It  never  once  happened  that  thejb.werd  condemned,  such 
care  dijl  I  take  to  have  reason  on  my  ftide.    It  wqii  im- 


'■*^ 


ich 
im- 

*■' 

» 

•> 

I 

Th»  OffntA«iz&.  "ii. 


w 


6t 


posBible  to  attack  me  on  the  score  of  discharging  my  daty  ; 
that  I  BcrapnloaBly  performed.    Mm  for  those  little  favors 
f;  which  a  Saperior  is  always  at  liberty  to^lrant  or  to  with- 
hold, I  never  asked  them.  *       /■      s  ,v     *i 
ri     I  did  notapi>eur.in  the  parlor,  and, <wifli  regard  to  visit^^^   ' 
not  knowing  any  person,  I  never  received  anyit    'But  I  h^d^  '^  - 
barjDft  m]^  hair-clo&  and  scoarge  ;  I  had^visedf^othem  to  .     : 
do^thesame,.    Whenth^y  asked  meif  I  acknowl^gedsnb^       h; 
mission  to' the  constitution,  I  replied  that  I  did  to  the  charch ;,  V  -  '"^ 
and  if  I  received  the  bnjl,  that  I  recpivod  the  gospel,   '^ey^     ^ . 
-■  visited  my  cell ;  they  fonnd  the  Old  and  N^ir  llTe'stfuneiiit  in     : 

it    I  had  let  escape  some  impmddnl  e:q)ressiQns  »bad€xa  /     ' 
*  '8aq>icions  intimacy  of  some  of 'the  favorites.    F,6mitted    [i 

notMng  which  could  midke  myself  fe«red,litated;  andnmdpne,    ;     ' 
.'  and  I  a(K:ompiished  it  at  last.  '  They -no  longer  compMnie^     .,  > 
•  iof  me  to  the  feuperi^,  bqt^they  did  dye^hing  in  their^wer    .  ^  " 
to  render  my  Ji&  tmcbmfortable.  ^  Thfey  forbade  the  nuns  to        r 
<^corae  neat  me,  and  I  looii  found  myself  deserted.    I  had. a 
fbwfri^ndawhocontriyed'by  stealth  to  get 'ihe:beiter  of  the      /  ,; 
restraint  which  was  impostid  on  theoti  vnHi  now  that'  they  ,     . 
'  coulid  not  pass  the  day  with  me,  they  viated  me  at  night,  or 
•  'M^^  torbidden  hours.     The  Superior  set  iipies  upon  us  ;  they^ 
•^fiurprised  me  sometimes-  with  one,  sometimes, with ^anoiher;    V 
,      this'sort  of  imprudence  was  isJl  they  wished' for,  and  I  wail      ' 

punished  for  it  in  the  m(Mt  injttttanab  manner ;  they  con-  .^ 
_^  demnedmefbr  wIiQle^eeli^pa88thes«hri(»onmy  kneegf  ^ 

'  apart  firom  the  rest  of  the  choir  ;  to  Uve  .upon  bread -and 
'      wate^,^  to  renuda  shut  up  in' my  cell,  to  perform  lihe  meanest 


V  ■ 


i.V 


o&oM  in  the  hooae.     Those  vrhoxiL  fliey  ca^O^^  apcoiQf     . 


'M 


.im^ 


■t 


58  ,        MALiciooa.  Tricks-  of  Nuns 

pUces  were  no  befe  tested,"   When  they  c Wd  not  fiWd  mo 
in  fault  they  took  one/or  granted ;  they  son^eiipies  gyVe  me 
orders  Which  it  was  impossible  to  execute]  and  ptbished 
me  for  not  obeying  them  ;  th^y  changed  tbejlionrs  of^  service 
and  of  eating  ;  ttoy  deran^,  without  mylknowWdge,  the 
whole  cloistral  order';  and  I  with  aU  the  attjentk^  I  could 
bestow  r  was  every  day  culpabjp,  and  evefyjda^  punished. 
I  had  courage,  but  there  was  no  degree  of  1  fortitude  that 
could  support  desertioi,  solitude,  and  perseciiWn.     Things 
came  to  such  a  height  that  they  made  a  sport|>if  tormenting 
me  ;  it  was  the  amusement  of  a  band  of^ifty  jiersons.    It  is 
impossible  to  enter  into  a  minute  detail  of  their  malicia^js 
tricks ;  they  prevented  me  firom  sleeping,  from  watching,  and 
from  praying.    One  day  they  stole  some/of  my  clothes ; 
another  day  they  carried  off  my  keys  and  ky  jbreviary  ;  my 
lock  was  spoiled  ;  they  hindered  me  froiii  doing  ^y  duty, 
and  what  I  did  they  never  Med  to  derabge  ;  |they  asmbed^ 
to  me  actions  and  speeches  of  which  I  Was  nOtJiie^MithOT; 
they  made  me  responsible  for  everythii^,  and  my  life  was  one. 
continued  scene  of  real  or  pretended^ults,  and  of  chastise- 
ments.   My  health  was  not  proof  igainst  such  long  and 
severe  trials  ;  I  feU  into  a  state  of  d/jection.    At  first  I  hM 
recoivse  to  the  altar  for  energy  of  ^ind,  a^nd  I  found  some 
at  times.    I  wavered  between  rcsijjnation  and  despair,  some*^ 
tunes  submitting  to  all  th?  rigor/of  my  fate,  at  other  times 
^meditating  my  deUverance  by  violent  means.    There  was  a 

deep  well  at  the  foot  of  the  garc)4n  :  how  often  have  I  looked  ^ 
*    at  it !    There  was  by  the  side  ft  the  well  a  stone  seat :  how 
.often  h>Te  I  sat  upon  it  witt>  my  head  leftning  ^pon  the 


■j^ 


t7^-:\ 


Thoughts  qf  Suicide. 


59 


-     sl*V 


brink  ;  how  often,  in^  the  tumult  of  my  ideas,  have  I  sud- 
denly got  up  and  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  my  sufferings. 
What  pi?evented  me  ?    Why  did  I  then  prefer  lamentation, 
crying  alpnd,  trampling  my  veil  under  my  feet,  tearing  my 
hair,  and  macerating  my  face  with  my  nuls  ?    If  Heaven 
prevented  me  from  destroying  myself,  why  did  it  not  also 
put  a  4op  to  these  acts  of  violence  ?    I  am  goin§  to  tell  you ' 
a  thing  irhich  will  perhaps  appear  strange,  but  Wfich  is  n<^ty 
the  leps  trhe  ;  it  is  that  I  have  no  doubt  but  my  frequent 
visits  to  the  well  yr^n  observed,  and  that  my  cruel  enemies 
flattered  tl^emselves  that  I  would  one  day  execute  the  ^ur-  » 
pose  which  was  con<^§ived  in  the  bottom  of  my  breast.; 
When  I  went  that  way,  they  affected  to  part  with  me,  afid 
to  look  in  a  different  direction.    I  hava  several  times  found 
the  garden  ddor  open  ^hen  it  ought  to  have  b^en  shut,  par-  , 
ticulariy  on  thoSe  days>hen  they  had  multiplied  the  causes 
of  my  chagrin,  and  when  they  had  roused  the  violence  of  my 
,  temper  tp  such  a  pitch  that  thipy  thought  my  intellect  was 
deranged:    But  as  soon  as  I  discov^ed  that  they  presented 
'     this  form  of  death  to  fay  despair,  that  they  led  me  as  it  were 
.  by  the  hand  to  this  ,well,  and  that  I  found  it  always  ready  to 
TS-TOCpive  me,  it  ceased  to  employ  my  thoughts ;  my  mind- 
turned  to  other  means  of  ending  my  existepce.   - 


M 


■y 


fS^   t 


V   - 


M' 


60 


LiviNO  FOR  Spite. 


•K". 


J':':-- 


CHAPTER   IV. 


nkonghU  of  Soiolde-^nre  ud  OpnTenti— OontempUtod  lioape— Uy  Mwrner 
l^traya  mj  PnrpoM— I  am  Watebed— My  Journal— Anottier  ftitafi-JOn 
Searcb— A  CHom  Friionac^-iOraeltr— Anotbor  Pr<d«et-ll7  nrmnest-Immoral 
Praottoet  in  OonTeati. 


IWENTthroogh  the  galleries  and  measured  thp  height  of' 
the  windo^,  at  night,  when  I  was  undressing  myself, 
I  tried,  without  thinking  of  it,  th^  strength  of  my  ga^rs; 
another  day  I  would  not  eat;  I  went  down  to  the  hii^l  and 
remained  th^re  leaning  against  the  wall,  my  hands  hanging 
down  by  my  sides,  and  my  eyes  ghut^  would  not , touch  the 
mea^they  set  before  me,  and  in  tib^tate  I  so  completely 
forgot  myaelf  that  I  would  stay  after  all  the  nuns  had  gone 

*  out.  They  affected  to  withdraw  without  making  a  noise;  and 
leaving  me  there,  they  iifterwards  punished  me  for  neglect- 
ing thd  eierdses.    They  disgusted  me  with  almost  all  means 

•  of  ridding  myself  of  my  existence,  because,  far  from  opposing 
my  intentions,  they  put  the  instruments  of  executing  them 
in  my  way.  We  do  not  like  the  appearance  of  people  push- 
ing ift  out  of  the  world,  and,  perhaps,  had  they  seeme4 
eager:  to  ke^p  me  in  |t,  I  shohld  now  hare  been  no  more. 
When  we  take  away  our  life  it  is  perhaps  for  thlei'  purpose 
of  occasioidng  distress  to  ptherg;  and  w6  preser?^  H  wjjen 


'N 


■/ 


The  PHnx)80PHY  ,  of  Suicide. 


61 


U.  ■  *• 


\       -...■•■ 


we  think  that  ihey  would  be  j[)leafied  at  onr  taking  it  away. 
These  are  the  secret  workings  of  our  minds.    In  truth,  if  it 
is  possible  for  me  to  recollect  what  passed  within  me  by  ihe 
side  of  the  well,  I  think  I  called  upon  those  wretches  who 
kept  at  a  distance  for  the  sake  of  favoring  the  commission  of  • 
a  crime:  "Take  but  one  jst^  towards  me,  show  the  smallest  • 
desire  of  saving  me^  run  to  prevent  me,  and  be  assured  you 
shall  be  too  late."    In  fact,  I  lived  only  because  tHey  w^hed 
my  death.    The  savi^e  passion  for  tormenting  and  destroy- ' 
ing  decays  i»  the  world;  in  the  cloister  it  is  indefatigable.    ^ 
I  warm  this  situation  whfen,  reviewing  my  past  life,  I 
•nceived  the  design  of  renouncing  my  vows;*    At  first  I 
thought  of  ilr  slightly.    Alone,  deserted,  without  support, 
liow  could  I  succeed  in  it  project  so  difficult,  though  seconded 
by  all  the  assistance  of  whidi  I  was  in  want.    Yet  this  idea 
tranquifized  me,  my  spirit  settled,  I  was  more  myself.    I 
avoided  some  evils,  and  I  supported  more  patiently  those  by 
which  I  was  assailed.    This  change  was  remarked,  and  it 
excited  astonishment;  malice  stopped  short,  like  a  cowardly 
foe,  who  pursues,  and  against  whotii  you  make  9>  stand  when 
he  does  not  expect  it.    There  is  one  question,  whic]i  I 
should  wish  to  propose;  it  is,  why,  in  spite  of  all  ihe  gloomy 
ideas  which  pass  through  the  mind  of  a  nun  reduced  to  des- 
pair, thai  of  setting  fire  to  the  house  never  occurs  to  her 
naginatioh?    I  never  entertained  the  design,  nor  did  the 
oihers,  although  the  thing  would  be  very  easy  tjp  ex^cpte. 
NoS^mg  more  is  necessary  than,  upon  a  windy  day,  to  apply 
a-fla^ll^u  td  8  garret,  a  pile  of  wood,  a  passage.    No  con- 
vents are  set  fire  to,  yet  upon  such  occasions  the  doors  are. 

'■■"■'-■'■"■"■ ■'"■      ■  ■  ■     '    " ■ ^    in  II.  ■  I  Mil    IIIIMHI IIIMMWM  I  IWIMMIIIIIMMI .IIMIMll      Mil.!      !■■ Ill    Mllll^l      1.1 M Mill 


62 


Taa  Teul  OF  Wits. 


A 


f*. 


.>^^ 


throwD  open,  and,  they  save  themselves  who'can.  May  not 
the  reason  be,  that  they  fear  the  danger  that  might  overtake 
themselves  and  those  they  love,  and  that  they  disdain  a 
•  relief  which  is  common  to  them  with  those  they  hate.  The 
last  idea  is,  perhaps,  too  subtle,  to  be  true.       «fe  '^ 

From  occnpying  ourselves  greatly  with  any  object,  we  feel 
its  justice,  and  even  beheve  its  jwssibility ;   we  are  very  ^ 
strong  when  we  have  reached  that  point.    It  was  to  m( 
the  business  of  a  fortnight;  my  mind  is  rapid  in  its  move 
ment.    What  was  the  object?    To  keep  a  journal  of  Jy 
life  in  the  convent,, and  to  escape,  if  possible;  both  y^n 
attended  with  danger.    Since  this  resolution  had  >ken 
place  in  my  mind,  I  was  observed  with  greater  attention- 
^  than  ever;  they  followed  me  with  their  eyes.    I  ney^er  took 
r  a  step  that  was  not  traced— I  never  uttered  a  w6rd  that 
was  not  weighed.    They  insinuated  themselves  about  me, 
they  endeavored  to  sound  me,  they  questioned  m/affected 
compassion  and  friendship,  reviewed  my  past  »liie,  faintly 
blamed  me,  devised  excuses,  hoped  for  more  correS  conduct, 
flattered  me  that  the  future  would  be  moreserfene;  at  the 
same  time  they  entered  my  cell  every  moment]  by  day,  by 
night,.upon  some  pretext  or  other;  abruptly  aid  cautiously 
they  drew  aside  my  curtains,  and  retired.    I  had  contracted  = 
the  habit  of  going  to  be*  in  my  clothes.  '  I  had  another 
practice,  that  of  reducing  my  experience  to  writing.   I  asked 
for  ink^nd  paper  from  the  Superior,  who  ^^i^^^^  ke.' 
But  I  jsommitted  three  absurdities;  the  fi^  was,  telling  the 
Superior  that  I  shoum^ve  a  great  many  things  to  write,    ' 
and  upon  this  pretext  asking  of  her  more  paper  than  is 


A  FiCiENDLY  Service.  '    % 


68 


allowed;  the  second,  occupying  myself  with  the  joomal,  and 
neglecting  my  confession;  and  the  third,  having  made  out 
no  confession,  and  remaining  at  the  cohfessional  bat  a  single 
moment.  All  this  was  remarked,  and  they  concluded  that^ 
the  paper  I  had  asked  for  was  employed  in  a  different  \man- 
ner  from  that  I  had  mentioned.  But  M  it  had  not  served 
:^or  my  confession,  as  was  evident,  how  had  it  been  used?. 


Without  knowing  that  they  were  impressed  with  these  dis-  ^ 
quietudes,  I  felt  that  it  would  not  do  for  them  to  find  upon 
me  a  writing  of  this  importance.     At  first  I  thought  of 
sewing  it  in  my  bolster,  and  in  my  mattress;  then  of  con- 
cealing it  in  my  clothes,  of  bryrying  it_  in  the  garden,  of 
,  throwing  it  in  the  fire.    You  cannot  believe  how  strongly  I 
was  urged  to  write,  and  how  much  I  was  embarrassed  with  it 
when  it  was  writteA.    First,  I  sealed  the  paper,  thrust  it 
into  my  bosonhjmd  went  to  service  to  which  the  bell  sum- 
moned.   I  was  oppressed  with  an  alarm  which  my  emotions 
betrayed.    I  was  seated  by  the  side  of  a  young  nun  who 
loved  me;  sometimes  I  had  seen  her  gaze  upon  me  with 
pity,  and  shed  tears.     She  did  not  speak  to  me,  but  cei> 
|(    tainly  she  was  unhappy.    At  the  risk  of  every  consequence, 
I  resolved  ■lo  entrust  her  with  my  paper.     At  the  moment 
of  th^rayer,  when  all  the  nuns  fall  upon  their  knees,  bend 
forward,  and  ar6  sunk  in  their  pews,  I  gently  drew  the  paper 
\.  from  my  bosom,  and  held  it  out  to  her  behind  me;  she  took 
.  it  and  thrust  it  into  her  bosom.   This  was  the  most  important 
service  she  had  done  me;  but  I  had  received  many  others. 
She  had  labored  whole  months,  without  being  discovered,  in 
removing  the  little  obstacles  with  which  they  had  encum- 


\ 


^:^;s«f 


■W.- 


H^ 


l:  / 


I  • ; 


l^BK    SlABOH. 


\     « 


\ 


lewd  my  duties,  and,  upon  my  foUure,  to  have  an  qipop. 
tanity  to  chastise  me.  She  came  and  knocked  at  my  door 
i^ten  it  WM  time  to  go  out;  she  put  to  rights  everything 
t  ley  had  deranged,-  she  had  gone  and  rung  the  beU  and 
Diade  responses  upon  aU  the  proper  occasions;  she  wm  in 
e  rery  place  where  I  ought  to  have  Ibeen.  Of  aU  this  I  was 
ig'norant.  ■:-H;y^m^Jft'::-#<-'V:-- ■':-■■•   ^^    .         '"    i- 

I  did  weU  in  employing  this  expedient.  When  we  left 
tie  choir,  theSuperior  said  to  me,  "  Sister  _,,  follow  me  » 
I  followed  her ;  then  stopping  in  the  passage  at  another 

door,  "  This  is  your  cell,''  said  she ;  "  Sister  Saiat ^  will 

occupy  yours."    I  entered,  and  she  ajpng  with  me ;  we  tiad 
both  sat  down  without  speaking,  when  a  nun  appeared  with 
io<ue  clothes,  which  she  laid  on  a  chair,  and  the  Superior 
8«d,  "Sister  — ,  undress. and  take  these  clothes.*'    I 
obeyed  in  her  presence ;  in  the  meantime  she  was  attentive 
to  all  my  motiomi,    The  sister  who  had  brought  the  clothes 
vas  at  the  door ;  she  reentered,  carried  away  those  I  had 
qmtted,  and  went  out,  followed  by  the  Superior.    I  was  not 
informed  of  the  reason  of  these  proceedings,  nor  did  I 
mquire.    I>««ing  this  interval,  they  had  searched  every  part 
of  my  ceU ;  they  had  unsewed  my  pillow  and  mattress  ;  they    ^ 
had  displaced  and  rummaged  everything.    They  traced  my 
footsteps ;  they  went  to  the  confessional,  to  the  church  to ' 
the  garden,  to  the  weU,  to  the  low  seat ;  I  saw  part  of  these 
searches,  and  I  suspected  the  test.    They  found  nothing 
bat  they  remained  as  fully  convinced  as  ever  that  there  was 
Bom^  foundation  for  their  anxiety.     They  continued  to 
watch  me  with  spies  fot  many  days.    They  went  wherever 


OltOSS-ExJLiaHATIOK. 


« 


■w'.fr 


I  had  gone  ;  theyjooked  eyerywhere,  bat  in  rain.  At  last 
the  Saperior  believed  that  it  was  impossible  to  know 
the  trath,  bat  from  myself.    $he  one  (fay  entered  my 

cell  and  said  to  me,  "Sister  ^^ ,  yoa  hare  faults,  but 

that  of  lying  is  not  among  the  number.  Then  tell  me 
the  trath  ;  what  hj^liji^ti  done  with  aHl  the  pape;  I  gave 
you?" 

"Madam,  I  hi 

"That  is  imposslS^ffllnroa  asked  me  for  a  great  de 

'  ■«Hr^ . » ■■  ■ 
and  you  were  oiAf  vMoiimi  at  the  cpnfessiQnal.'' 

"it  is  true." 

"  What  then  have  yoa  done  with  it  ?'* 

"  What  I  told  you."      ,     ;^  -^     ^ 

:'*  Well  then,  swear  to  me,  by  the  holy  obediexipe  yoa  have 
TOwed  to  Heaven,  that  sach  is  the  trath,  and,  in  spite  of 
appearances,  I  will  belicTe  yoa."  ^'  ^' 

"Madam,  yoa  are  not  permitted  to  exact  an  oath  for  a 
slight  matter,  and  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  take  it ;  X  ^not 
swear  it." 

"  Yoa  deceive  me,  Sister  -—— ,  an(]|w||are'not  aware  to 
what  yoa  expose  yourself.  What  hate  yoa  done  with  the 
paper  I  gave  yoa  ?"         '         /  "^ 

\    "  I  have  toM  you." 

^*  Where  is  It?"  » 

"I  have  it  not" 

"  What  use  have  yoa  made  of  it  7"  '    . 

"  Sach  u  is,  made  of  those  writings  which  are  useless  after 
they  have  served  their  purpose."  ^ 

"Swear  to  me,  by  ^e  sacred  obedience  yoa  owe,  that  it 


^ 


'K  >: 


.66 


X 


I   WILL  KO^  Swear. 


has  ^,been  employed  in  writing  your,  confession,  and  is  no 
longer  in  you  possession."  H 

"Madam,  1  repeat,  the  second  p^oint  being ] no  more 
Important  than.the  first,  I  cannot  sw^ar." 


?>_ 


/' 


"Swear,"  said  she  to  me,  "or 
*"  I  will  not  swear." 

"You  will  not  swear  ?"  ^r     ^  "         „  ^   ^ 

^  /'No,  Madam."  ■  ,  .  ?/  . 

^' You  are  thett  guilty  ?"  ' 
,"  And  of  what  am  I  guilty  ?" 

'*  Of  everything— there  is  nothing  of  which  you  are  not 
capable.    You  haiie  affected  to  praise  my  predecessor,  in 
order  to  depreciate  me,  to  contemn  the  customs  she  had 
abolished,  and  which  I  considered  it  my  duty  tare-estabMsh  ; 
you  have  endeavored  to  destroy  the  principles  of  suliordina^ 
tion  in  the  community ;  you  have  infringed  its  laws ;  you 
have  sown  division  among  its  members  ;  you  have  failed  in 
the  performance  of  every  duty  which  your  situation  required ; 
and  what  to  me  is  of  all  the  most  painful  consideration,  you' 
have  compelled  me  to  punish  you  and  those  whom  y^u  have 
seduced.    WhUe  it  was  in  my  power  to  enforge  against  you 
every  severi^^  which  the'^most  rigorous  measures  could 
inflict,  I  yet  tated  you  with  indulgence  ;  I  imagined  that 
you  would  ackii^wledge  your  faults,  that  you  would  resume 
the  spirit  which  befits  your  situation,  and  IJat  you  would 
solicit  with  anxiety  your  reconciliation  with  me*^  but  I  "have 
been  mistaken.    Something  is  in  agitation  in  your  mind, 
which  is  not  good  ;  you  are  occupied  with  some  projects  the 
interests  of  the  house  demands  that  I  should  kno^  and  I 


A^- 


MoBE  Force  Threatened. 


6t 


•t, 


will  know  them,  depend  upon  it.    Sister—,  tell  me  ttie 
^rath.'»       •■,,;/;^''-';      .  .'  .:.:         -    ,'   - '■      ■'■./"..  "  '  )l 

^^"  Iiufl  altout  to  le^ve  you ;  dread  my  return  ;  I  will  again 
y[t'dow^ ;  I  allow  you  yet  a  moment  to-^petermine.    Your 
^papersTif  they: exist^f  X  ^— ^_  -  -^^^  --  _     ^_  ^^  .^ 
•'I  hare  them  not."         ,     '.  • 

"  On  your  oath,  they  only  contained  youp  confetti  ?"  -  v 
-     "  I  cannot  swear  it."  \ 

She  remained  a  moment  in  silence,  then  she  retired  and 
returned  with  four  of  her  favorites.  The  appearance  of  them 
all  was  distracted  and  furious.  I  thrjw  myself  at  th^ir 
feet ;  I  implored  their  mercy.  They  all  exclaimed  in  conce 
«'  No  mercy,  Mother  ;  do  not  allow  yourself  to  be  mqved 
her  supplications;  she  must  give  up. her  papers  or  go 

quietly." 

I  embraced  the  knees  first  of  one,  then  of  another ; 
I  addressed  them  by  their  names,  saying,  "Sister  Saint 
Agnes,  Sister  Saint  Julia,  what  have  I  done  to  you  ?  Why 
do  you  incense  my  Superior  against  me  ?  Was  it  thus,  that 
I  ever  acted  ?  How  often  have  I  interceded  for  you  ?  You 
then  remember  my  kindness  no  more.    You  were  in  fault, 

but  I  am  not."  '  . 

The  Superior^,  unmoved,  looked  at  me  and  said,  "  Give 
me  your  pjipers,  wretch,  or  disclose  what  they  contained." 

"  Madam,"  said  ttfey  to  her,  "  do  not  ask  her  for  them 

any  more  ;  you  are  too  indulgent ;  you  are  not  sufficiently 

•   acquainted  with  her  character  ;  she  is  an  untractable  spirit, 

with  whom  it  is  impossible  to  succeed  bat  by  proceeding  to 


^ 
^ 


'■■;■  -*-■■ 


■.-..  .* . 


,>. 


68 


Threats  Carried  into  Effect. 


fe 


eztrejmto,  she  compel,  y„„  t„  embr«e  that  .Iterative 
and.he«asts»fferf„rit.  Give  ,,  orders  to  strip  h„,  »a 
let  her  be  consigaed  to  the  place  destined  for  those  who 
pursue  a  similar  9()nduct." 

.  "My  dear  mother,  I  swear  I  have  done  nothing  which 
—     #•■>  offend  either  Hearen  or  man." 

"That  is  not  the  oath  which  I  e,«,t.    She  may  have 
written  a^t  as,  against  jo„,  some  memorial  to  the  Pope 
or  0  the  Archbishop.    Heaven  knows  the  description  sh:  , 
may  have  given  of  the  intfflmU  sUto  of  the  honse ;  accosa- 
tion  easily  obtains  credit." 

"M«*m.,  yodW  dispose  of  this  creatnre, 'nnless  yon, 
wonid  have  onr  fate  to  be  determined  by  her  » 
The  Snperior"iaded,  "Sister- ,conside?» 

«der6d  every  conseqnence.    I  feel  that  I  am Indone,  bnt  a 

moment  sooner  or  Uter  is  not  worth  thi  tronble  of  a  thoaght 
Do  with  me  whatever  yon  please,  yield  to  their  f„,y  con- 
,.      snmmateyonrinjnstice."    Immediately  I  held  ont  my  Ld, 
to  them;  they  were  seized  by  her  companions,  who  tore 
■""^  "■'  ^"1.  'nd  stripp^  me  without  shame.  ■ 
^  They  foan|  in  my  bosom  a  miniatore  pictnre  of  my  old 
^  Snpenor,  they  seized  it ;  I  entreated  permission  to  kiss  it 
once  more,  bnt  the  favor  was  refnsed.    They  threw  me  « 

nnder  garment,  they  took  off  my  stocUng^  covered  me  with  ' 
•  I  a  sack,  and  led  me,  with  my  head  «.d  feet  nncovered,  along 
the  passages.    I  wept,  I  caUed  for  help ,  bnt  they  had     ^ 
^nnO'dthe  b^  ..  gi„  ,^g  ^,  ^      " 

I  .nvok^l  Heaven ,  I  .nnk  to  the  «.^..  .„.  ...^  Jf  j 


i  ■ 


r 


V     ? 


The  Subterraneous  Cell. 


6ft 


me  along.  When  I  had  reached  the  bbttoiii  of  the  stairs 
my  feet  were  bloody,  my  limbs  were  braised,  my  situation 
wonld  have  softened  hearts  of  flint.  With  ld%e  keys,  the 
Superior  opened  ^e  doqr  of  a  glooofy  subterraneous  cell, 
where  they  threw  me  upbn  a  mat  half  rotted  by  the  damp. 
I  found  there  a  slice  of  black  bread  and  a  bason  of  gruel, 
with  some  coarse  necessary  utensils,  i  The  mat,  when  rolled 
/up,  formed  a  pillow.  Upon  a  stone%iy  a  scull  and  a  black 
*wooden  crucifix.  My  first  impulse  was  to  put  a  period  to 
my  existence.  JL  wplied  my  hands  to  my  throat,  I  tore  my 
clothes  with  my  te4th,  and  uttered  hideous  cries.  I  dashed 
my  head  against  tljiQ  walls,"  and  endeavored  to  take  away 
my  life  till  my  streng^sfailed,  which  very  soon  happened. 
In  this  place  I  remained  three  days ;  I  imagined  myself 
condemned  to  it  for  life.  Ev6ry  morning  one  of  my  execu- 
tioners visited  me  and  said,  "  Obey  your  Superior,  and  yoii 
shall  be  liberated  from  this  place." 

"  I  have  done  nothing.  I  know  not  what  I  am  required 
to  perform.  Ah  I  Sister  Saint  Mary,  there  is  a  Deity  in 
heaven.".  The  third  day,  about  ^e  o'clock  at  night,  the 
door  was  opened  by  the  same  nuns  who  had  conducted  me 
J;o  the  dungeon.  ,^fter  £  panegyric  upon  the  goodness  of 
the  Superior,,  they  announced  to  me  her  forgiveness,  and 
that  they  were  going  to  set  me  at  liberty.  "  It  is  too  late," 
said  I,  "  leave  me  here  ;  I  wish  to  die."  Nevertheless  they 
raised  me  up,  and  dragged  me  away  ;  they  led.me  back  to  a 
cell,  where  I  found  the  Superior. 

"I  have  consulted  the  Deity,"  said  she,  "upon  your 
BJtaation ;  He  has  tonched  my  Peart ;  it  is  His  will  that  I 


'h^ 


''  SI 
I 


V 


iv 


s 


Oath  on  Comfulsioit.  \ 


sboald  take  pity  on  yon,  and  I  obey.    Fall  npon  yonr  knees, 
and  ask  His  pardon."  ' .  ^    ^  '     \  .■       / 

,i  fell  npon  my  kne^,  and  sa^d^  "  My  Creator,  I  entre^i  ' 
ybnr  forgiveness  foi^the  faults  I  hayeccommitted,  as  np^ 
the  ci'oss  you  asked  forgiveness  for  me.''\T  ~^^:]^ 

^  Wliat  presumption  ("  exclaimed  they  ;  "she  compares 
herself  to  J^esus  Christy  and.  us  she  coQipa||p  to  the  Jews  by 
whom  he  was  crucified." '     ^       *       ^  '  . -^   * 

"Do  not  consider  my  "conduct,"  said  I,  "but  consider. 
y«lu*selves  and  judge:"  Sr 

"This  ^s  not  all,"  said  the  Superior  to  me  ;  "  Swear  by 
the  sac^  obedience  yqu  have  vowed,' that  you  will  not 
speak  t>f  what  has  happened.?  -  '  / 

"  What  you  have  done,  then,  is  certainly  very  criminal, 
since  you  exact  from  me  an  oath  that  I  shall  never  reveal  it. 
None  b^t  your  own  conscience  shall  ever  know,  I  swear/'  ^ 

"You  swear?"  .         /  ,     \.^ 

"  Yes,  I  swear."  This  being  concluded,  they  stripped  me 
of  the  clothes  they  had  given  me,  and  left  me  again  to  dress 

• 

myself  in  my  own.  .  •  ,  4-' 

I  had  been  affected  by  the  dampness  ;  I  was  in  a  critical 
situation  ;  my  whole  body  was  bruised  ;  for  some  daya  I 
had  only  taken  a  few  drops  of  water,  and  a  little  bread.  I 
imagined  that  this  persecution  was  to  be  the  last  I  should 
have  to  suffer.  From  the  temporary  effect  of  these  violent 
shocks,   which  demonstrate  the  extraordinary  power  of 

• 

nature  in  our  persons,  I  recdvered  in  a  very  short  time ;  and 
when  I  again  made  my  appearance  I  found  all  the  com- 


/ 


^ 


again 


^innnity  persuaded  ihat  I. had, been  sick.    I  resumed  the 


./ 


*■  . 


^    *^  f 


'Y- 


This  Swallowed  Billbt. 


71 


Id    K    .  /  . 

Qt          '   \    ^ 

>f      .      >         " 

n-  - 

ie     •;':^, 

-  Til?:-:  r  ' :,-\  . 

Zeroises  of  the  hotise  and  my  place  at  church.  -I  had  n^i, 
forgotten  mv  jonrna),  nor  the  yonng  sister  to,  whom  it  had  - 
been  confided;  I  was  sure  that  she  had  not  abased  the* 
trnst^  and  that  she  hjad  not  kept  it  without  anxiety.    Som^  . 
days  after  niy  liberation  from  prison,  *  while  in  the  choir, 
^t  thb.  same  moment  when  I  had  given  it  to  her  (that  is, , 
sit^^  When  we  taR  on  onr  knees,  aid  when,  inclined  towards  each 
JDthe^,  we  disappjear  in  onrseats),  I  felt  myself 'ftlled  gently 

, by. the  gown  ;  I  stretched  oat  my  hand  and  received  a 
biijiet,  wMeh  contained  only  these  words,  "  What  terrible 
altiiety^ybn  have  occalslbned  me  !  and  what  am  I  to  dp  with 
thai  cruel  jpaperY'  kfter^  reading  this,  I  twisted  it  up  in 
my  hand,  and  swallowed  it.  All  this  happened  at  the  begin- 
ning qt  Lent.  The  time  was  approaching  when  the 
curiosity  of  hearing  the|  musical  performances  attracts  much 
company.  My  voioe  was  exceedingly  fine,  thbagh  now  a 
little  injured.  In  these  religions  houses,  attention,  is  paid 
to   the  inost   minute   circumstances   that   concern   their 

^7interests.;  I  was,  therefore,  treaited  with  more  [M|itioa 
and'indn^^ce  ;  I  ^pi^ed  a  greater  portion  of  uberty. 
The  sisters  Hfhom  I  taught  to  sing  wer6  allowed  to  visit  me  ; 
she  to  whom  I  had  confided  m^ournal  was  of  the  number. 
In  the  honrs  of  recreation  w^o^ve  spent 4n^ie  ^rden,'  I 
took  her.  asid|;  I  made  her  ^ng,  and  whiMpIhe  sang,  I 
addressed  her  as  follows: — "You  have  a  great  many 
acquaintances,- 1  have  none  ;  I  do*tiot  Wish  yon  to  expose 
ypuirself  to  the  danger  of  detection  ;  I  should  prefer  dying 
hero,  rather  than  o»pooo,yott  to  the  suHpiciun  of  iiftving^ 
-served  me.    I  know,  my  friond,  that  it  would  occasion  j<mr 


^ 


[«■ 


^1*;''-  ^^ 


# 


f  '12 


Theatrical  Jlpplausk. 


V       .ymn,^ithout^iptpiningm|5,de^^  ;  ani 


ruin  wdald  ac(^o 


if    Butjii  ftprice.'^ 


my* 


I  sWd'  «« kccept  ij;  at    < 


J'.   .''#!f. 


is  tlie  serTice 
J-co 


y&ish  to  havVd<|il?V;  JI^WEh  tq(;ipr*  '  ^^'   ' 


some  jM^  laf^Hirnif  liiM^»^^<! 


the  sfliM  time,.tt»e  hoiw^i&wMiltSpM 
mr,  which  you  lay  i^t^li^l^y  iMiiids 
ir;g,'>    "Bat  what  haye  Jrott  dbne  with 
%  '"   ^-W^Sm-msmmW"^  8^®-    "^'«*  *****  givt^ofi no  uneasmeBS  j^. 
^*^'  ■■  .^^^^^a^lee^\ifc.!^' -  "toti,  likewise/Vs&i.she^  "may  keepj^.. 
-     V  '  "'il^  ^yoir'miad  at'ease  ;  I  will  attend  to  yltti  bu8ines8.'^    You 
^      *^^^^^^"  wi^ob^Wei  that  t  sung  while  she  spcfllto.me,  and  that 
^'   ^,  f-fl|-  'she  «wgVhile.Ii:^ed,  and  that  wi^pmi^ 
i^i^  ^s*'!*  '  ■  '^'  , pur  conv«ri|itjiion.  ■■■•■■  '  "■  "^      ■  y-    -■ 

J^l^^ ;.    K.    She, did  3jot  fail  very  soon  to  keep  he|,  word,  and  she^ 
»    -    *  .       commnnicatfidto  me  liie  infonnation  in  our.ioiual  manner 
■     >^^     "        ■  'Holy  %eek  vrivjed  ;  the  concourse  of "  spectators  to — - 
'  "  ^*  ^  was  nuineroua.?  i  sang  so  well  as  to  excite  those  tumultuous 

and  ^cahdalQus  marks  of , ^probation  which  are  besto^ed^ 
.upon  the  comedians  9.%  the  theatres,  apd  which  ought  Mver     . 
t6  be  heard  in  4he  temple  of  the  D^ity,  especially  upon  those 
solemn  days  devoted  to  the  memory  of  the  Son  naUed  to  the  ' 
Crdss  for  the  expiation  of  the  sins  of  the  human  race.    ^J   - 
young  pupils  wer6  well  prepared ;  someJ|them  had  good  v;, 
voices,  almost  all  had  exptesdop  and  t^la^nd  it  se^ed 


^hat  thcLpnblic  had  lieard  them  with 
.comiqUi  was  satisfied  with  tb 
'    yW^few,  tjiat  upon  Maundy 
tnent  is  triM^^rted  fromlhe  ta 


and  that  the 

3     *j  ,..■-■       .    :. 

my  carefey 

the  Holy  Sacra-,  ..|p, 


:f; 


AdOBAMON    of    tHB    SACBAligBNT. 


18 


J    e 


to  a  particular  altar,  where  it  remaina  till  Friday  morning. 
This  interval  is  employed  in  adoration  by  the.  nuns,  who  . 
repair  to  the  altar  successively  twd  aM  two.  Th^reisa 
lipt,  which  points  orit  to  each  her  hour  of  adoration/ :  With 
what  pleasure  did  I  read,  "Sister  St.  — -i^and. Sister  St. 
.  Ursula,;  from  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  i6  three  P  I 
^  repaired  to- the  altar  at  the  appointed  honr-^my  i^njpanion 
was*there.  We  placed  ourselves  together  on  ihe  steps  of 
"the  altar  ;  w«  prostrated  ourselves,  and  worshiped  <for  half 
an  hour.  At  the  end  of  this  period  my  yoijn^  friend 
stretched  out  her  ^  hand  to;me,  and  pressing  mine  said, 
"Perhaps  we  shall  never  enjoy  aa opportunity  of  CQnversing 
BO  long  and  so  freely.  Heaven  knows  the  constraint  in 
which  we  live,  ^nd  viU  fe«tiv^  ^  if  We  share  for  our  own . 
concerns  that  tim6  which  shodld  be  wholly  dedicated  to  Its 
service.  I  have  ijot  read  the  journal,  but  it  is  not  difficult 
to  guess  its  contents.  The  lawyer  will  answer  to  it  imme- 
diately, but  if  that  fEnswer  shduld  encourage  you  to  com- 
meibei^lit  to  be  enabled  to  renounce  your  vows,  do  you 
not . observe' that  you. must  necessarily  consult  With  other 
gentlemen  of  the  law?"    "True."  "  »    ' 

"  That  for  this  purpose  Perty  is  requisite  ?" 

jM|!ili|til%;4iliiP         act  wiseIy,*you  will  avail  yourself  of 
*^f  present  cS«ijj|8taSwto  procure  it  ?"   ^  ;     ^    '  ^ 

,    "  Ishflive  reflected  npoi^hat  sul^ect/^ 
w     "TouwUl  doit  th^ ?^      '^*  m,' 
'         "isSl 


consider." 


^^- 


^^ 


xm^imTf^is  yi>uB^n8inwB  b1ioi34  ^  ^nw^ 


*     V-.- 


'h. 


¥y:'0 


'.  ■^' 


j^. 


.'■S'H 


V   .•   :• 


■i»f. 


li'l'l'''-""^- 


■i|! II' i» 


11'  "'       '  Tub  World  aSi'o  the  CLoistfiB.  .^ 

you  wgi  remain  here,  abandoned  to  all  the  fttry  of  the  com- 
munity ;  have  yon  fores^M  the^pers^ntions  to  which  you 

will  be  exposed  r    \      '       .  .  ,      ,  ' 

"  -fhey  cannot  be  morfe  seTtee  than  those  I  have  already 

Sifffiered/' 

'a  do  not  know  that."-  #      ' 

.   "  EXCU86  me,  they  will  not  dare,  at  first,  to^epmrhie 

of  my  liberty." 

"And  why  not?"    „,  ^  -  .1. 

"Because  I  shajl  be.  as  it  were,  placed  between  the 
world  and  the  cloister.    I^shall  possess  the  opportmuty  to 
speakitheHferty  to  complain.    I  will  summon  you  all  a« 
mtnesses.;  th^y  will  not  yenlure  to  commit  injuries  which 
toight- toiflh  me.  wuh  sul^ect  of  complamt;   they  wilL  * 
beware  of  d^'any  act  which  miglit  render  odious  the 
cause  they  maint^.    Nothing  would|  be  mo^cceptaWe 
to  me  than  the  iitusage  they  might  inflict ;  Ht  they  will 
not  act  m  this  manner  j  be  assured  th^y  wUl  pursue  a  very 
different  course.  .They  will  beset  me  wfth  soUdtations,  they 
wUl  rqjreseht  the  'injury  I  am  about  ^  do  myself  and  to 
the  houfe^  i  and,  depend  iU)on  it,  theV  wiU  not  recur  to 
menace,  but  they  wiU  discover  that  mildnes^  and  insinua- 
.     tion  are  employed  without  success,  an^  that,\at  aU  events, 
•    they  wiU  forbear  to  put  in  practice  any  violent\measure8." 

.  «  Bttt  it  is  incredible  that  you  can  hftve  such  an  aversion 
■for  a  Situation,  the  duties  of  which  ypu  p^rmwith  so 

much  facility  and  exactnes3.*V  1         ^ '  * 

o  T  f^^^  t>f.f  q^ftwion  in  my  own  breast ;  it  lyas  engraved 


-t 


.  -f : 


on  my 


mind  at  my  birth,  and  it  never  wiU  B^  eraaedrX 


-*-!' 


^kf 


-I '\    - 


■m,;^ 


\:: 


The  Piio\wiiNG  WoLV£a. 


76    ■ 


shall  eud  by  l^ing  a  bad  nun,  and  I  most  anticipate^  that 
momeut."  J. 

"  Bat  if,  unfortunately,  you  should  prove  unsticcessful  ?'* 
"  I  will  request  liberty  to  change  my  house." 
^^'  And  if  you  do  not  obtain  this  iaypr  ?"  ^    ' "    •■     ' 

'aVnidie."  '     •   '       -v 

"We  suffer  much  before  we  choose  the  alternative  of 
death.  Ah  I  n^  fdefid,  I  shudder  at  the  conduct  you  pur- 
sue ;  I  tremblejest  your  vows  should  be  adjudged  to  be. 
-  broken,  and  lest  they  should  not.  If  tl^ey  are,  what  course 
are  you  to  follow  ?  What  will  you  do^in  the  world  ?  You 
havr^fighre,  wit,  and  talents,  but  these,  they  say,  ai^  of 
little  service  when  they  are  conj^dted  with  virtue,  aW  J 
know  you  will  not  swerve  from  that." 

"You  do  justice  Ho  me,  but  not  to  yirthli ;  upon  that 
alone  I  depend  ;  the  less  frequently  it  is  to  be  found  ampAg 
mankind,  the  more  it  ought  to,  be  valued  " 
"  It  is  praised,  but  it  is  neglected."  9  '  ""  " 
"  It  is  virtue  alone,  however,  that  encourages  aad  sup- 
ports me  in  my  design. '  -Of  me,,  at  least,  it  will  not  be  said, 
as  of  jnany  others,  that  I  was  seduce^  from  the.  s^^i^ 
which  1  belonged,  by  a  criminal  passion.  The  imniOrVi^ 
practised  aroun^v^,  do  hot  affect  me.  So  that  I  am  pure, 
it  is  enough.  But  I  grieve  for  those  who  weakly  yielii  to 
those  t^ptations  which  are  held  out  to  them  hf  the  prowl- 
iiuebvolves  in  sheeps'  clothing, .  who,  under  cover  of  the 
^roam  about  this  confent's  dark  land  windmg  pas- 
I  see  them  sometimes,  when  tibey  little  think  they're 


nottce4. 


t 


.--•^  *.;.•;''.:,•  w 


fl    •*• 


•^. 


,  ■«•■ 


t*  *  r 


•fMMiifipwwM 


•-.(  ■ 


5# 


r«t 


■:^? 


n* 


jer,"  said  sister  Ursula,  "  ate  yoa,  too,  aware  ■ 

<;^  jDfraiy  scehes  that  are  transpiring  within  these  cpnveaw 
wiiiils,  when  night;  has  thrown  the  veil  of  darkness  dveir  iU 
^  inmate^  4nd  over  tT900t00llch  ,v^y  n^l  appal  us, 
^   who  have  contrived  to  preserve,  amid  all  oar  temptations,  that 
purity  of  heart  and  motive  which  a  m(6rciful  God  has 
'  implj^nted  in  our  natures,  and  which  our  early  (Bcfncatiou 
^y  and  culture,  before  we  entered  tU,ese  accursed  abodes,  had 
tosteted  and  strengthened.    How  falsely  has  this  place  beeii 
supposed  to,  be  the  abode  of  purity,  of  seclusion  from  the 
vtdigfty  and  wickedness  of  the  wort^,  where  an  innocei^t  and 
confiding  girl  might,  withjtpiire  and  trustful  heart,  turn  her 
thoug'hts  towards  heav^in,  and  prepare  herself  foppfclissful 
heiM,ft6r.    Is  it  not  terrible  that  such  a  place,  consecrated 
to  no^^ss,  should  be  made  the  spot  to  pander  to  t°he  base 
passions  of  thpse  placed  by,hei{i.ven  as  our  spiritual  guides 
and  directors  f    Lafitenightfthe  weather  being  war%  and 
'  the  air  of  my  rqdm,  %)ressive  ff^iS  confined,  I  could  not: 
slee^'l^jaaY  Msome'lj^pae  to!^in||  uneasily  on  my  pillow, 
.  at  last' j^rose,  and  lightly  steppi%  out  of  my  bed,  sat 
down  ijrthg^ndow,, and  watched  th^eautiful  stars  which 
frlittered^S^lie  heavens, ^3l  alovely^oon' Which  shed  its 
soft  light'  into  my'room.    4||§^B't  *  apd  meSitatea  on  the 
past  scenes,  ol  my  slM|^bu1^nha:pp^  life, Jn  spite  ^f  myself, 
dark  thoughts  and9pD:u|ibrebodings  of  the  future  filled 
■^  my  mind,  W(lr  whiql^  ww  silently  broodftg,  when  I  wai^ 
'  -.:-^      aroused  "by  hearing  'i  light  footstep  in  my  room.     I  was 
"         concealed  by  the  curtains  of  the  window,  and  from  my 
hidiAg-place  saw  disthictly  the  face  of  Father  S-r— ,  who 


■  ^  ■.  >>!K- 


>V 


?4;;>'- 


NiORT  Scenes. 


n 


-s,  evidently  expectfed  to  find  me  asleep,  but  was  surprised  to 
\find  my  coach  empty,  and  startled  by  a  slight  noise  I 
unavoidjibly  made,  turned  and  glided  noiselessly  out  of  the 
room.    I  had  before  noticed  that  this  man  often  regarded 
me  with  a  peculiar  look,  which  sometimes  almost  made  me 
shudder,  and  once,  as  if  by  accident,  he  placed  his  hand 
upon  my  bosom  instead  of  my  head,  while  I  was  kneeling 
to  him  for  his  biasing,  and  upon  my  suddenly  rising,  he 
seized  my  hand  and  gave  it  what  was  meant  for  an  aflfec- 
rtionate  pressure.    He  vas  always  my  detestation,  for  when 
it  was  my  turn  to  kneel  to  him  at  confession,  he  always 
ask^d  me  questions  which,  though  I  did  not  exactly  under- 
sta^  their  import,  yet  my  inherent  purity  of  heart  shrank 
from  answering,  and  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  the  idea 
*  that  he  was  actuated    by  some   sinister    and    improper 
motives.     How  terrible,  my  dear  sister,  is  the  power  of 
these  men,  who  pry  into  the  most  secret  recesses  of  our 
^hearts,  and  endeavor  .to  turn  our  innocent  thoughts  in  suCh 
a  direction,  as  to  minister  to  th"Bir  base  ends.    And  I  fear 
^  with  good  reason,  that  in  some  instances  they  have  suc- 
ceeded.   I  have  frequently  heard  noises  and  |I^Mrings  in  _ 
the  rooms  below  ;  I  could  distinctly  hear  ^^^mSfof  male 
and  female  voices,  and  once  I  saw  Father  j^^^  stealing 
past  my  door  in  his  dishabille,  in  the  direction  of  the  fur- 
father  corridor.    I  have  endeavored  to  shut  my  eyes  and  ears 
%  these  things,  but  they  are  too  palpable,  too  plain,  to  be 
-misunderstood.    I  am  sick  at  heart,  and  wish  that  I  was 

/out  of  this  horrible  place." 
/         "  Yes,  my  dear  sister  Ursula,  I,  too,  have  seen  and  heard 


V/t 


78 


£ 


The  pRiEfTLY.  Bacchanalians. 


S 
'"%, 


all  that  ^^atejtho  other  night  I  saw  a  basket  of 

Eheuish  wine  carried  to  Father  — s'  door,  and  being 

detained  rather  late  In  the  refectory  to  complete  a  task 

Ithat  the  Mother  Soperior  had  given  me  to  do.  for  some 

imaginary  dereliction   df   duty,    I    was   passing    Father  _^ 

8»  door,  when  I  heard  distinctly  several  male  and 

female  voices,  evidently  in  high  glee,  and  as  I  gained  my 

room,  the  last  notes  of  what  appeared  to  be  a  bacchanalian 

song  reached  my  ears,  accompanied  with  Father  —- s' 

peculiar  laugh.    Such  are  the  doings  within  these  walls, 

supposed  by  the  world  to  be  'sacred.'     But,  my  dear    , 

sister,  we  must  now  part,  or  we  shall  be  observed  and  pun. 

ished  ;  but  if  I  can  obtain  the  opportunity,  I  wUl  talk  more 

with  you  on  this  subject."    Alas  1  that  time  never  came, 

for  other  and  more  troubled  scenes  were  in  store  for  me, 

My  mind  was,  by  this  tune,  a  little  soothed,  and  the  brief 

conversation  I  was  allowed  to  have  with  sister  Ursula  had 

diverted  my  thoughts  from  the  painful  train  jn  which  they 

had  been  indulged  of  late.    My  friend  prayed  in  an  erect 

posture,  whUe  I  prostrated  myself  with  my  forehead  leaning 

upon  the  lowest  step  of  the  altar,  and  my  arms  extended 

.    upon  the  upper  steps.     I  do  not  believe  that  I  ever 

addressed  Heaven  with  more  consolation  and  fervor.    I  am 

ignorant  how  long  I  remained  in  this  position,  or  how  much 

longer  I  might  have  continued,  but,  doubtless,  I  presented 

a  very  affecting  spectacle  toVy  companion,  and  the  two 

•  nuns  who  arrived  at  the  spot.    When  I  rose,  I  thought 

myself  alone ;  I  was  mistaken,  all  three  were  behind  me, 

—      ...       . — J  ^ 


BtandiDg,  aiid  bathed  ifl  toms.    Thtji  had  notvcnturpd 


^.t 


\ 


Ecstatic  ,  Bffi'sions. 


n 


X 


interrapt  me ;,  they  waited  till  I  should  return  to  myeelf 
from    that    state  of   transport  ami  effiision  in  which  J|| 
appeared.     When  I  directed  my  looks  to  that  side  on     f 
which  they  stood,  my  countenance  must,  doubtless,  have 
possessed  a  very  commanding  character,  if  I  may  judge 
Jrom  the  effect  which  it  produced  upon  them,  by  the  resem-£; 
blftnce  they  told  me  I  bore  at  that  moment  to  pot  former 
Superior,  when  she  used  to  impart  to  us  spiritual  consola- 
tion.   Had  I  felt  any  beHt  to  hypocrisy  or  fanaticism,  and  . 
had  been  disposed  to  play  a  distmguished  part  in  the  house, 
I  have  no  doubt  that  I  should  hayo  succeeded.    My  soul 
was  easily  inflamed,  exalted,  transported  V  and  a  thousand    ^ 
times  our  good  Superior,  embracing  me,  has  said,  that  no 
peri^on  would  have  loved  Heaven  with  an  ardot  like  mine  ; 
that  I  had  a  heart  of  flesh,  while  others  had  hearts  of  stone. 
Certain  it  is,  that  I  experienced  an  pxtreme  facility  in  shar- 
ing her  ecstasies.    In  the  prayers  which  she  uttered  aloud, 
it  sometimes  happened  that  I  would  become  the  spea^ker, 
•  follow  the  train  of  her  ideas,  an^  catch,  as  it  were  from  , 
inspiration,  a  part  of:  what  she  herself  would  Tiave  sai(4. ' , 
My  companions  heard  her  in  silence,  or  were  contente*d 
merely  to  follow,  while  I  interrupted  her  effusions,  soared 
into  a  higher  flight,  and  joined  my  voice  td  hers,  in  accents 
of  adoration.    I  very  lon^  preserved  the  impression  IhadJ 
taken,  anMtJii||d  as^  if  some  part  of  it  was  destined  to 
be  restoredf  Igij^Mised  to^be  observed  of  others,  that  they 
had  conversed  vit&  her,  while  it  was  perceived  of  her,  that  , 
she  had  conversed  virith  me.    But  what  signifies  all  this, 
when  the  call  no  longer  exists?    The  period  of  our,w^t<^- 


# 


v.. 


Thb~  Giddy  Nuns. 


;^:?> 


f ; 


J* 


ing  being  expired,  we  resigneS  ojir  place  to  those  who  sue-  ^ 

'  ceeded    My  young  companibn  and  I  emlyaced  each  other.      " 
very  t|nderly  be^re' we  separated. 

The  pene  wj^ch  had  taken  platfe  at  the  afea|,^excited 
con^diable  l^ntion>  the  house. 'The  succes^tf  our       ' 
musicaMerciges  on  Good  Friday,  Ukewise  had  its  share,  - 
I  sung  ;¥:plaved  upon  thg.organ^  I  was  applauded. ^O 

^^iddy  nuni\^  iiad  seairceijf;  any  diffiotfty  in  reconcUing    -^' 
myself  to  the  ire  members  of  ttie  commrinitj  ;  they  imet ' 
me  half-way,  Bnd  among  the^^st.-t'he  Sbperior  herself.- 
My  acquaintance  was  desired  by  some  people  of  th*  world, 
a  circumstance  whloh  corresponded  too  well  with-iJay  project 

'tapermitme  to  aecline'lheir  advances.    I  wakvisited  by       * 
the  ^-r-,  by. Mrs.  -— ,  and  a  nnm|)er,  of  otliei;  persons,-    ^ 
by  priests,  magistrates,  pious  w^men,  and  by  ladi«^  of" 
fashion.    I  cultivated  no  acquaintances  but  .those  Whicli.  ^ 

.    were  unekceptionable  ;  the  rest  I  resigned  t^the  nuns  who;  *  ^ 

'    were  hot  so  particular.  ^  '     '    ,'   ^.  -'V 

tforgol  to  mention  that  the'  first  fnark  'of  kindness  I 
received,  Vas  my  re-establiehment  in  my  cell.    I  had  the 
courage  t/  demand  the  restoration  of  the  little  pidure  of      •; 
•    our  forX  Superior,  and  th«y.didnot  venture  to  refuse  t^.|^^' 
reW^i.  It  has  assumed  its  plac^  At  my  breast/^here.ifc    •" 
Uhku  remain,  as  long  as  I  Uve.'  Every  morning,  my  first 
cak  is  to  raigfe  my  soul  to  beaten,  iny  sdAnd  m  to  kiss  the ^^' 
^Jortrait.'    When  I  am  desirous  to  pray,'and^hen  I  feel  my 
^hedrt  cold  andTlapguid,  I  take  it  from  my  neck  and  place  H 
before  me.   'l  gaze  upon  it,  and  reqe?^  .inspiration.    It  is 


mucLto  be  regretted  that  we  never  ^^e|equaiated  with 


My  Bill  op  CoMPLAiirrs. 


81       *^ 


IC-  ^ 

lec 

* 

ed 

*         9 

mr 

' 

■  '       1 

re. 

;-■ 

•  ■     f 

0 

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net  .. 

v 

f   ■ 

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aet 

elf. 

* 

#•'■.- 

;ld, 

■'«.■■  ^ 

ect 

''■5 

^y . 

*'^ 

-  ■   .     1 

1 

)n8,  - 
of> 
licK 
vho; 

S   I 

■%M 

'm 

th«^ 

* , 

3  Ol 

■  'a  ■ 

'» 

thft 

';v  ^ri 

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* 

f.   '■ 

first 

* 

the' 
I  my 

•>• 

ce  it 

■■•■■■'■4 

. 

[t  is 

• 

with 

■' 

,,_!^ 

r^ 


\ 


't.'  ft 


the  holy  persons  whose  images  are  displayed  for  out  v6nei*a- 
tion  ;  they  would  then  st»ike  us  with  very  different  impres- 
sions. They  would  not  allow  uS  to  remp,id  at  their  feet  Or 
intheir  presence,  with  those  cold  and  Ufeless  feelings  which 
we  often*experience.  ^* 

\  received  the  answeir  to  ifiy  letter,  from  Mr.  - — ^^,  which 
was  n^iither  favorable  nor  unfavbrable.  Before  pronouncing 
upon  this  affair,  a  great  many  explanations  were  required, 
which  it  was  difficult  to  furnish  without  a  personal  inter- 
view.   1  then  invited  Mr. to  come  to -.    These 

geiftlemen  are  not  easily  drawn  from  home^;  he  came,  how- 
ever.   We  ha'd  a  very  long  conversation,  and  adjusted  a    , 
plan  of  cprrespoiideflice  by  whichi  he  was  .to"  convey  his  ques       , 
tions  with  safety,  and  to  receive  my  jinswers.    On  my  side,  . 
I  employed  4ihe  whole  interval,' during  wjWch  he  kept  my 
business  under  consideration,  in  conciliaitmg  fator  and  kind-^  f 
tless,in  di^oskig  people  to  take  an  interest  in  my  fortune, 
.and  in  endeavors  to  obtaii^  protection.    I  told  my  name,  I 
disclosed  the  circumst^hces  of  mj  conduct  in  the  first 
jeligious  house  in  which  I,  lived,  the  hardships  I  had 
suffered,  the  severity  wit||j|rhich  I  had  ^eea  treated  in  the 

convent,  my  remonstranfe  B^t  St.  ^,  my  stay  at  -^^ — , 

my  taking  the  hi^bit,  my  profession,  with  the  cruelties  that 
had  been  exercised  against  me,  after  my  vows  were  con 
summated. 


--^'■f 


\^. 


j».. 


M 


My  tale  ^as  <^ow   heard    with  pity,  and 
accompanied  with  offers  of   assistance;   without  fuHher- 
*xplatotion,  I  reserved  the  Icindness  that  was  expressed  in 
my  favor  for  an  occasion  in  which  it  might  be  necessary. 
Nothmg  transpired  in  the  l^oa^.    I  had  obtained  per«as- 


..'*  v^i 


.%^^ 


■€■■ 


ii 


-p^ 


S   :M 


.^a. 


'■•■^-' 


/•-♦ 


\t  tt. 


3. 


82 


l^E  Protest. 


sion  from  ■ to  protest  against  my  vows  ;  the  action  Vas 

on  the  w)lnt  of  being  instituted,  without  the  remotest\ 
snspicion^h  the  subject  being  entertained.    You  may,  then, 
conceive  the  surprise  of  jny  superior,  when  she  received  the 

intimation  of  a  protest  in  the  name  of ,  against  her^ 

.  vows,  with  a  request  to  be  allowMto  quit  the  religious 
.habit,  leave  the  cloister,  and  regulate  her  future  life  as  She 

might  think  proper.  ^  :^  "*  ^  ; 

I  had  r^adUy  foreseen  that  I  shotld  experienc^v&fioua 

kinds  of  opposUion  from  the  religious  *)iouse  to  which  | 

.belonged,  should  I  regam  my  freedom.    I  wrote  to  my 

'asters,  and  entreated  them  to  give  no  opposition  to  my 

leaving  the  convent.     I  appealed  to  their  consCiehce  to 

V  bear  witness  to  the  UtUe  freedom  with  which  my  ^wa  had 

■  been  made.    I  omitted  no  argument  that  could  J)er8uad^ 

them  that  the  step  I  had  taken  was  dictated  neitlier  by 

wterest  nor' by  passion.    I  was  not  sanguine  m  the  hopes 

of  inspiring  them  with  sentiments  favorable  to  my  design. 

Scarcely,  had'  th#  Superior  received  my  application  ib  • 
form,  wheh  she  ran  to  my  cell.    "  How,  sister,"  saidshe  to 
me,  *'  you  wish  to  leave  us  ?" 
■     "Yes,  madam."      \  -'.        .  ,.       .    ' 

T^^  "And  are  you  going  to  renounce  your  vows  ?"    »    .'  ',' 
."  Jes,  madam."  s  ,    -     .       .     ^ 

"  Have  you  not  actied  without  restFainl;  ?** 
.  "  No,  madshn.'' 
-::&    "And  what  has  constrainectyou?" 

/y  *"Ev^ything,"-     :  -'t    ■  ■    ' '^  '^  '  i  ■> 

'    "Andwhydidnotyouremonstrati&at^efocltpfthealtaifT** 


X 


t\  f  I 


/v- 


*..». 


*  — 


.f 


lA 


\     ■-.■■■     .  ■  -  .         .-  ■  -  ■      ^.  .     ■    * -^  ■■  .  -        .  -         ■■.-■■■ 

V         .      A  Pi,EA  FOR  i>EEDbji.        ..  :  »       ,88 

"  I  was  so  little  myself/Wt  I  do  not  reooUect^ven  hav- 
ing stood  by  it."  .  ,*    ,      ' 
"  How  can  you  say  so  ?**           .' ;_  '  V 
'' I  speak  the  truth."                  ^  „'    '        '•       V      ., 
"What!  did  you  not  hear  the' priest  ask  you,  '  Sister 
^  do  you  promise  to  God  obedience,' chastity,  and 

poverty?'"  '  ;  ■  ",  ■■■"';;<*_:■'  'i 
^I  have  no  recollection  of  it."     y^.       '     ,"'■;■;•■   ';":..■  /  ■- 


"  Yott  dwl  not  answer  yes  ?". 
**  I  have  no  recollection  of  it." 


• .   ft*      ■ 


«  And  you  imagine  that  people" will, believe  this?" 
"They  may  or  may  not  belie've  it,  but  it  is  not  the  less 

true."  ,  ■^-•■%.  -'■:;■■;    \  ■'":-'"  .■,;■->■-■';■;.■■'-"'-•.  -'.■'-■■  ,';',„ 

"My  dear  child,  if  such  pretences  were  listened  to,  what    , 
dreadful  abuses  must  be  th6  conseq(!ience !    You  have  taken 
an  inconsiderate  step,  y^.- have  suffered  ypurself  to  He    * 
misled  by  a  jevengeful  feelmg^;  the  chastiselnehts  whTeh'^" 
you  have  obliged  me  tp  inflio^jppn  you,  still  rankW^n  yottf 
•  bosom  ;  you  think  they  are'"  sufficient  to  make  you  break    <^ 
'  '  your  vows.    You  are  wrong  f  it  is  an  .etcuse  which'  cannot'  ^ 
be  sustained,,  either  by  hfeaveiT  6r  ?n|n.    'Consider  that  pef- 
jury  is  the  greatesjir'^bf  all  crimes  ;  tfiat  you  Weiajread;^  .', 
,  committed  it  in  yo«r  heart,  f|Jad  that  you  are  about  to  con- 
Bummateit."  --^     /   *  .     ^  ■>»*     -,    »^ 

.."  I  shtkU'ndt  be  perjured,  I  have  never  been  Wofn.'>  ^,  >   . 
"If  you'baive  suffered  some  iojjiries,  have  they  not  been  ' 
^pairedr\'^'V^^' ;:'!.■.•-■■:-■-,    •  ,  ' ' l_„    -k'  J''-  \': 


■  idiots  ,, 


m- 


;!.■>■■' 


* 

••V 

'  *.    1        ■''.''■ 

»  ,'■.               ■'■,■. 

■:■«.-*■' 

r . 

^yr' 

> 

• 

rT-= 

■•*. 

1      ■    •H,'  '   ' 

■'^■'■" > 

— fe- 

j;;;!;;;^;;;^ 

■■'.v' '.. 

■  Vr- 

.•«•  ■- 


ii'  ;■: 


*t : 


-i:' 


w 


84 


AnGUMENTs  Pro  and  vCon. 


':.> 


"Whatisit,  tbfin?"      .  v 

"IJp^n  the  want  of  a  call,  lip^  my  want  of  liberty  in 

^Jaking  my  vows."    '  -  V  i         ,* 

'  :!vif  you  had  no  caU,if  you  act^^  by  constraint,  might    ^ 

not  you  have  said  so  in  time  ?"   *     \  . 

"  And  what'purpose  wduld  it  have  Ws^ered  ?"  * 

"  Might  you  not  iave  displayed  th?  same  firmness  that 

youdid  at  Saint  ^-—r--.?"        V    ^'         A  •  . 

'' Can  we  be  answeraWat  ail  times  for  the  firmness  of   . 

our  hearts?    The  first  tfme  I  was  firm ;  the  second  time  -» 
my  weaknessvovercame  me." 

>'  "  Might  not  yoji  have  entered  a^protfist?    YotL  had  four- 
j^nd-twenty  hours  in  .which-  you  might  have  shown  proofs  oC 

.  reluctance."  -  . 

".Did  I  know  anything  about  4;hese  forms?    Though  I  , 
■  liad  known  them,  was, I  in  a' state  to  practise  them  ;  was  it    , 
in.  my  power  ?    Wh]^t  I  madam,  were  you  not  yourself  sensi-      • 
ble  of  'my  deran|eiiti4t  ?    Were  I  lo  call  you  as  a  witpss,      . 
would  yqu  swei^  that  I  was  soun^  in-  mind  ?"     '  ;     -    ^ 

"  If  you  call  me,  I-  will  swear  it."  '      ': 

"  Well,  theri,^adam,  it  is  you,  and  not  I,  who  are  per- 
jured:" •     '  ■        ■  .  ,  . 
■:■■'  "  My  child,  you  are  going  to  make  a  very  needlea^noise.'  ^ 
Recollect  yourself,  I  conjure  you,  by  your  onv'n  interest  and     • 
that  of  thfe  house ;  such  affairs  are  always  attended  with 
-    scandalous  discussions.''          \>^'""'-    \;  ,  ;  '  v     a 


\:.-' 


'  that  wijj  not  be  my.  fejjJt,''  ;.        ;       V     \.  ; 

^The  peop^^  th«4^id"afe  wicked  j  they  ^  make 


^suDDOsitiohs  the  most  unfavorable  resoecting  your  nnder- 


:'(.    " 


■■j^vi; 


r^ 


T~^ — r- 


e-rji^-i^^: 


-*   ■«  ■ 


.<  ..  .'  -^-swaft. "■ 


.  1 


--*.: 


i. 


Something  Iu'conceivablb..i.; 


85 


!'  f.  ^' 


/standing,    your-  heart,    and    your   naorals.^     They   will    ' 

'tlflnk'»—    ■  _       ■.'  :'    '..     "      „■•    :,'\    ;■,•.'■-#- 

','"  Whatever  they  please."  :       ,  '-     -, 

'  "  But  speak  to  me  ingenuously  ;  if  you  have  any  secret 
discontent,  whatever  it  may  be,  it  is  capable  of  a  remedy."  ^ 

"I  have  been,  I  am,  and  shall  be,  dissatisfied  with  my  - 
condition,  as  long  as  I  live.'* 

^  "Could  the  seducing  spirit  which  is  continually  watching 
us,  Jind  who  "lies  in  wait  to  destroy  us,  take  advantage  of 
the  liberty  which  we  have  granted  you  lately,  tdinspire  you 
with  sbme  fatal  propensity  ?f       *    »  "      •, -* 

"  No,  madam  ;  you  know  that  I  never  took-  an  oath  with- 
'  out  reluctance.  I  take  heaven  lag  witneiss,  tha!  my  heart  is 
innocent,  and  that  it  never  knew  a  djshdnprable  sejatuaaent." 

"  This  is  inconceivable  1" 

"  Nothing,  niadam,  is  eajiet  ta  be^  cgncwved.  Byery  one 
has  a  character  of  her  own,  and  I  have  mine  ;  you  love  the 
monastic  life— I  hate  it ;  you  have  the  graces  of  your  con- 
dition, and -I  do  not  possess  them  ;  -you  would  be  undone  in 
the  world,  and  he je  you  secure  your  salvation  ;  I  shall  ruin 
myself>liere,.and  I  hofe  for  salvation  in  the  world  ;  I  am,/ 
aittd'  always  shall  be,  a  bad  nun." 

"  And  wherefore  ?  There  is,no  person  who  performs  her 
duty- better  than  you." 

"  But  it  is  with  pain  and  reluctance." 

"  You  have  the  greater  merit."  . 

**  No  perapl^vcan'  know  better  than  I  do  myself,  what  I 
merit ;  and 'I  am  coinpeired  \o  acknowledge  that,  in  submit- 
ting to  every  tihing,4  merit  nothings    1  m  tired  of  the  pB- 


■■  ./^ : 

') 


■^  1.  y.^ 


•  i 


86 


1'hs  pRaFEssioN  Qjp  Hypocritb. 


'^^4 


ki'  • 


'■>• 


V 


fessioa  of  a  hyJ)ocri$e  -in  doing  that  which  is  the  salvaiioxi 
of  others,  I  render  myself  an  object  of  detestation  a<id^  con- 
demnation. In  a  word,  madam,  I  know  no  trae  nuns^  but 
thoge  who  are  destined  so  by  a  taste'  for  retirement,  and 
who  would  remain  here  though  they  were  confined  neither  ' 
by  rails  Eor  walto.  I  am  far  from  b0|rg  of  this  number  j 
;  my  body  is  here,  but  my  heart  is  not— it  is  roaming  at 
.  large  ;  and  were  I  to  be  under  the  necess|^  of  choosing" 
betw^^;death  and"  perpetual  confinemeni^  in'Hhis  place,  I 
would  not  hesitate,  to  die.    These  s^p  my  sentiments." 

*'  How  I  could  you  quit,  without  «emorse,  this  veil,  and 
these' vestments,  which  have  consecrated  you  to  Jesus 
Qhristr'  .        • 

.  "  ^es,  fiaadam ;  because  I  assumed  them  without  reflec- 
tion, and  under  constraint."    ' 
I'urlher  on,  in  this,  the  relation  of  iny-convent  life,  I  allude 
-  to  Qtertain  papers  which  my  dear  sister  TJrsiila  had  left  "b 
me  as  a  me^iento  of  her  friendship,  and  in  the  hope,  as  the 
*  sequel  proved,  that  they  might  be  made  serviceable  m'show- 
ing  to  the  world  liow  much  of  gross  deception  there  is  in  thi, 
,  system  of  convents  and  nunneries  •  how  many  abuses  exisfcx 
among  them;  how -much  of  misery  they  cause.    I  have* 
J  f elected  from  among  the  paper?  of  sister  IJrsula  the  history  , 
:;;*of  "  Coralla,  or  the  Orphan  Nun  of  Capri,"  for  the  purpose' 
of  introducing  it  at  this  point  of  my  story  as  a  relief  and 
change  from  the  exciting  character  of  my  own  sad  expert*- 
ence.    With  the  MSS.  history  of  Coralla,  I  found  the  follow- 
ing  account  of  the  manner  in  which  it  fell  into  the  hands  of 
aiiter  Ursula : 


w,  ^ 


*, 


\S' 


The  Orpha*  Nun  *  of  Capri. 


81 


(    *     « 


SISTER  URSULA'S   PAPERS, 


'  ^  "  Whilst  I  was  an  inmate  «of  tKe  consent  of  fet.  — ,  I 

formed  a  friendship  with  one  sister  Morali,  a  young  lady 
whose  uncle  plotted  with  the  Jesuits  for  the  possession  of  ^ 
her  person  and  ifortune,  and  succeeded  only  too  wdl.     But  ' 
_.  before  they^had  resolved  upon  the  desperate  step  of  securing 
her  person  by  force,  she  obtained  the  stery  of  Coralja  from 
her  own  li^s,  while  tn  a  yisit  to  a'small  town  near  Naples, " 
where  Coralla  had  retired  with  her  faithful  friend  Onofrio'. 
Soon  after  this,  the  extreme  measure  of  coercion  resolved  ' 
upon  -by  the  wicked  bncle  of  sister  Morali  and  his  Jesuit 
accomplices  was  carried  into  effect,  and  thinking-ffiat  Sister 
•Morali  fiiigteither  escape  or  convey  the  story  of  her  wrongs  ° 
t©  her  friea^y  some  ipeans  or  other,,  they  resokwt  upoa 
carrying  her'out  of  the  country.   -They  Erst  conveyed  her  to 
France,  thence  to  this  country,  and  thus  it  was  that  I  chanced 
•  to  meet  with  sister  Morali,  whose  melancholy  history  I  have 
not  written,  but  there  are  other  papers  besides  those  relat- 
ing to  Coralla,  which  I  hope  will  b^  published  to  a  deluded 


world. 


Louisa  C- 


called  '  Sister  jTrsvia:  * 


I 


■  ■■*-..-^-, 

•    • 

mM-^ 

i    - '  - 

• 

X                      ff 

« 

-  *                 •     i 

! 

1 

4 

\  fl 

• 

1 

/ 

•^■^  .#.-,:"'  '■ 

>     "*' 

a 

.J.:- ...,-  - 

^.^^^  1 

inn 

i^mgi 

1^*^^^^ 

■■-■-. J..^.:-r- 

t-A           ^ 

t 

-)*i 


7; 


CORALIA 


A^ 


OB  tsa 


/ 


OKPHiN    NUN    oi    CAPRI. 


# 


I. 


% 


i; 


1,/ 


f  .  -    ■  \    ■  ,-    ■  ■ 

,    '»""«'» ••««>"«'«°'»-AnOn»Wo-Mam,er  of  life  the«H-FatherMipp»  takes  me 
to  Caprl-DescrlpUon  of  that  IsUnd-The'Bay  Of  Naples-ReflecUoM  of  yoang 
,  .  ,       females  abandoning  home  tod  friends-Tta>  UrsuMne  Convent  of  Gapri 

,        ^     ■-■      I,  •  -  ■   *i  ■,.':*,■:■ 

t,  ■■..".. 

A  T  my  earliest  recollection  I  was  dweUing  among  agreat 
Xl,  number  of  girls,  in  a  large  building,  under  the  care  of 

r  "  several  women,  on  tlfe  borders  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  but  at 
some  distance  frota  the  ciiy.  I  We  yery  little  "^^say 
about  the  years  I  spent  in  that^lace.as  there  was  very     ■ 

_..  ""^®  ^*"®*y  ^"^  "*y  ^«'  »°d  »otJ^°g  <>f  part|nlar  importance 

;,,  occurred.    We  were  trained  to  the  various  kinds  of  I^bor 

V    -^  required  in  the  care  of  the  institution,  which  was  one  pf  the 

^  y;  kmd  called  Ospiziode'  Or/W*  in  Italy  ;  and  received  a 

-■>   ■■  :».V*..Ji-  1^  '  ,'■■"'      '  .,''/"  ■", 

^     '      *v  "X^"*'"'**  ^"iy«d  from  i&«P«*«m  to  Latto.  which  signifies  not  Ilk*     „ 

(haf:  an  .inn-hii»  .-' 1 .   .l:  '■»■ 


■A] 


■v.^-ji*- 


■V  -ri,        ...-  ■'    J ^"- •»  "Buu,  nuica  Bignines  not  UK| 

aar,«  lnB,b»tan  orphan  asylufe,  or  rather  a  foundling-hospital.    Institutions" 
or  thlsktod  «reTe,7comn,on  in  Popish  countries,  and  they  are  <«tlen  connected 


Father  Pbhjp. 


89 


Kttle  education  iQ^the  radiments  of  learning.  Bat  this  was 
not  much,  more  t^  sufficient  to  enable  m  to  read  our  prayer-, 
books,  whidh  were*almost  the  only  books  that  were  allowed 
us.  We  were  regularly  catechized  by  priests  who  visited 
,  the  honse,  were  iaught  to  treat  them  with  humble  respect 
and  reverence,  and  rpquired  to  obey  them  as  being  author 
4zed  by  God  to  teach  and  direct  us,  and  to  submit  to  every 
penance  which  they  imposed.       '  -  ^ 

There  was  a  certain  Padre  Filippo  (Father  Philip)  who  . 
occasionally  visited  the  honjj  and  one  V,  when  I  was 
about  sixteen  years  of  age,Twas  informed  that  I  wa«  to 
leave  the  placg  and  go  a^ay  to  another  residence.   Arrange- 
me^ts  were  apcordingly  made,  which  took  but  little  tune  ;  I 
was  got  ready,  iand  then  placed  mider  the  care  of  Father  ' 
Philip,  without  haying  any  explanations  Made  to  m#,  or  any"^ 
information  given  from  Which  X^ould  learn  what  was  to 
; '  become  of  ^.    lodeed,  I  qa^Ue;  having  no  particular 
altachmeni  to  any  .pf  the  inmates  of  thehouse,  and  nothing 
^  to  gi|e  me  much  regr^ati,  parting.    Inthe  Os|izioIhad:  ' 

With  convents.  They  are  often  pointed  at  asj^ighly  credita^e  td  the.Roman  Oatiollc  ^ 
religion,  but  their  principaJ,Jl^ect,  and  ««,  »te  gener>y  understood  by  intelllge^ 
traTeUers.and  eyen  bythe  people  an,ong.,whom  m^  e^.    The  Immorality  ^of 
^riesu  requires  special  mean,  of  concealment^  and  fhey  who  are  r^ady  to  appuL   " 

l-recauuons  necessary  for  thepreaervauonan4^areoco,^hans.ho«ldbecar«fta  not." 
^T\7T  T'''"'^^'  ^"'^^  bytg^^o^r^ash^med  or  J^d^l 
^.^w;e,^them.  It  is  doubtless  true  that  "^e  of  t.^  ma,y  .h^r^  ,„;^,^-,  ■ 
,  ^ft  t  n.ght  in  revolving  Cradles  usually  constructed  AUhe  walls  otZl  i^sh-  " 
-ents,areconsignedtothecareoftheinmatesbyhonest  antf aifectfonate bar««l,.  ,  ^ 
J«.o  are  «.able  to  providefbr  th|ir  subsistence ;  .nd^^efbre  there  are ^q,£ 
O^ects-of  chartty  amopg  the  thous^j^  children  alway,  ^u^A.n  IHem.  OtZ  . 
number  probably  was  qoraUa.-^il<llMitK«to.  -.  *;    ;     ' 

■*  .     .    -■  tlMP-,,.,    -%;/■■•■■.;;.>:•  ;^:!.;'-'^-' 


/^ 


>'^', 


^'. 


»'^ 


>• 


.,* 


'f-v 


J-^v 


V. 


M 


90 


*nl^^ 


CORALLA. 


been  mncfi  con6ned  within  doors,  but  sometimes  had  oppor- 
tunity to  enjoy  a  little  of  the  beautifal  weather  which  pre- 
rails  in  thW  part  of  Italy  through  a^eat  part  of  the  year, 
and  the  peculiar  scenery  of  thd^sflitoundiug  country  and 
adjacent  sea-views.  I  was  then  so  young  and  ignorant, 
that  I  knew  not  of  any  other  part  of  the  world,  and  how 
much  that  region  is  esteemed  for  its  beauty  and  charming 
dimate  over  most  other  countries.    I  had  heard  of  fetrangers 


coming  every  year  to  spend  some  time  iithe  island,  bijt  I 
knew  little  or  nothing  of  their  character,  objects  or  origin. 
They  aro  principally  English,  as  I  smce  hate  learned, 
gd  they  are  attracted  by  the  Springs,  which  are  places  of 
"^h  resort  for  invalids,  and  also  for  some  who  travel  only 
pleasure.  .,      "  V 

'hejsland  of  Capri,  I  believe,  wa^he  i#^  of  my  bu-th, 
lOugh  I  have  never  been  able  to  obtain  any  information 
concerning  my  parentage,  and  have  never-  seen  |ny  person 
who  claimed  to  be  a  relative.     This,  fact  I  can  har.dly 
mention  without  giving  expression  to  some'of  the  feelings 
of  sadness,  which  .iav'e  always  fille4  my  heart  when  I, 
thought  of  mrf^endless  condition.    I„have  seen  the  affection 
of  children  for  tW  parents,  ^nd  the  love  with  which  the. 
members  ota  famUy  generally^  regard  each  other,  with  a 
peculiar  interest,  because,  althbugh,  I  "have,  nevec^beeh^ 
allowed  to  enjoy  it  myself,  1  feel  that  I  have  a  nature  fitted 
for  it,  and  that  I  should  have  bieen  happyiu  their  condition. 
I  hay  sfeen  girls  leaving  their  homeland  friends. to  live  in  a* 
convent,  and  wondered  how  any  one  would  ever  do  so. 
willingly,  or  how  parents  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  compel 


-■    "    ■*\' 

■  Vi  : 

- 1" ; 

■(y  . 

■"••::  .^,""' 

'■■■  t" 

The  TTrsulikb^ohvent. 


them.    It  is  trae  tl 
while  they  have  take 
it.    To  me  it  was  a 
the  Ospizio  or  not,  and 
nothing  to  expect  in  the 


91 


'hat  snch  a  life  is, 

J  had  experienced 

lee  whether  I  left 

iither  I  went,  having 

but  the  same  want  of 


'.friends,  the  same  vacnity  of  hea^  which  had  always  been  my 
,    portion.  _ 

The  islahd  of  Capri  is  only  a  few  miles  long,  and  is  hfgh 
and  rocky;  in  some  parts  rough,  precipitous,  and  impassable. 
■  Ftdm  many  points,  and  especially  the  ridge,  you  may  see  on 
one  side  far  out  to  sea,  to  the  very  horizon;  while  on  the 
east  is  the  coast  of  Italy,  with  the  long  range  of  mountains 
-stretching  up  to  Yesuvius,.  from  which  the  smoke  of  the 
volcano  is  always  rising;  and  the  city  of  Naples  can  be 
dhnly  discovered  in  the  north,  on^  the  opposite  side  of  the 
bay,  at  the  distance  of  thirty  miles,      .        ' 

While  on  my  Way,  in  company  with  father  Phnip,  I 
learned  from  him  tliat  ^J  was  going  to  tive  In  the  TTrsnline  , 
Convent,  where  he  wokd  ihtrodnQp  me  to  the  Saperior ;  and  * 
we  at  length  <?am#  in  sight  of  that  edifice.   Jt,is  sltiW;ted 

'  ^  ^^^  ^miadfl  Mtmco;  or  Monk's  Pouatt,"  near  the  sea; 
«d  the  whiJie  appearanbfe  of  the  place  i?  S-ough  and  rade, 
showing  great  antiqaity.  Having  reached  the,,  door,  my 
companionde^irerffo  see  the  Superior,  who  boon  Appeared,  ■» 
and  cast  opus  a  v6ry  austere  look,. and  gave  me  a  very 
ehiU3r.^lutatioH.  Father  Philip,  however,  spoke  a  few  ' 
words  to  her  aside,  in  a  low  voice  which  I  could  not  hear, " 

„  and  her  ihanner  immediately  softened,  so  tfiat  she  addressed- 
me  in  a  somewhat  kind  and  condescending  tone.  ; 


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92 


OORALLA. 


The  Superior  of  the  Convent— Her  Opinion  of  me-CondlUon  and  ^pearance  pt  the 

Nung— The  Drudges-Change  of  my  Position— Trials  and  Sufferings— Causes  t»f  it 
—Reflections  on  the  Cruel  Bondage  of  Nunneries— Who  bring,  young  Women  into 
OonTents-Some  of  the  reasons  why  they  are  desired— Schemes  and  Conspiracies 
to  inveigle  them. 

■■■#►.,  ..     . 

I  FOUND  myself  soon  introduced  into  the  community-^a 
number  of  nuns  of  different  ages  and  appearance,  some  of 
whom  I  hoped  I  might  soon  count  as  friends.    They  at  first 
regarded  me  with  what  I.interpeted  as  kindne)gs,  and  I 
engaged  with  readiness  in  the  duties  imposed  upon  me.    We 
had  our  regular  hours  for  everything,  differing  in  some 
respects  from  convents  of  other  orders  of  which  I  since  have 
ha4  any  knowledge,  but,  on  the  whole,  much  like  them  all. 
That  is,  a  great  part  of  the  tinie  was  spent  in  prayers, 
singing,  listening  to  the  reading  of  the  Uves  of  Saints,  and 
solitary  reflection;  while  we  had  to  make  frequentconfession, 
and  perform  not  a  few  penances.    We  had  some -little 
instruction  in  the'  rudiments  of  knowledge,  but  very  little; 
and  there  was  nothing  in  the  manners  of  pur  instructresses 
or  their  methods  of  teaching  that  made'^study  agreeable. 
Like    all  ^  nuns    generally,  they  were''  ignoramuses,    and 
neithei^oved  learmng  thejpselves,  nor  were  able  or  willing 
to  communicate  it. 
But  I  had  soon  reason  to  wish  that  my  lot  might  have 


,  The' Nunnery  Drddges. 


93 


.been  destined  to  be  no  worse  than  that  of  iny  companions 
at  large,  of  which  I  had  not  formed  any  agreeable  opinion. 
There  were  a  few  of  the  nans  who  performed  the  laborious 
•    and  menial  duties  of  the  convent,  whom  I  had  Idbked  upon-, 
with  pity.    At  first,  I  was  unabie  to  account  f&t^he  great. 
"'     disAnction  made  between  them  and  others.    From  the  ideas 
I  had' previously  formed  of  a  nunnery,  I  had  supposed  that 
all  nuns  were  equal,  sharing  in  the  same  duties,  partaking  of 
the  same  food,  and  treating  each  other  as  sisters,  united  in 
the  closest  bonds  of  aflFectien,  for  the  sake  of  religion  and  the 
service  of  God,  to  whom  they  had  devoted  their  lives.    But 
here  I  found  some  separated  from  others,  kept  continually 
at  work  in  serving  the  rest,  and  treated  with  contempt  and 
harshness,  without  being  allowed  the  same  comforts,  or  to 
receive  any  instruction  whatever. 

From  some  indirect  hints  I  received,  I  at  length  ascer- 
tained that  this  diflTerence  was  made  because  they  were  poor 
and  friendless.    They  either  had  brought  no  mon^y  into  the 
convent,  or  had  no  property  or  rich  friends  from  whom  any- 
t|^  might  be  expected  in  future.-   Among  thejothers  were 
^ine  who  had  thtf  best  of  everything,  and  weTe  always 
'  treated  with  favor.    Partiality  was  plainly  shown  to  them 
by  the  superiors  and  the  priests  on  all  occasions.    They 
were  allowed  favors  denied  to  their  companions,  and  were 
,   in  a  great  measure  exempt  from  disagreeable  tasks  and 
severe  penances.    They  were  at  the  same  time  encouraged 
with  the  idea  that  they  were  regarded  with  favor  by  the 
bishop  and  the  patron  saint,  and  were  making  advances  in 
holiness. 


-vi   I 


=>  ! 


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CiPBAJjLA. 


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These  discoveries  not  only  surprised  and  pained  me,  because 
they  indicated  a  very  different  state  of  things  in  the  convent 
from  what  I  supposed  to  exist,  and  shocked  me  with  the 
'suspicion  that  all  was  h^ocrisy,  but  they  also  excited  in 
me  a  horrible  fear  of  being  doomed  to  the  bard  fate  of  the 
poQf^jind  friendless  nuns ;  for  I  well  knew  'there  was  not  in 
the  convent,  or  even  in,  the  world,  a  girl  poorer  or  more 
entirely  friendless  than  myself.  A|i,  poor  Goralla  1  what 
are  you  coming,  to  ?  what  shall  I  do  ?  how  can  I  ever  endure 
what  these  poor  creatures  have  to  submit  to  ?  But  how  can 
*I  avoid  it?  . 

And  all  my  forebodings  proved  too  true'.  It  was  but  a 
short  time  before  I  learned,  by  the  change  of  treatment  I 
received,  that  my  fatal  secret  was  known.  Whether 
Father  Philip  bad  intended  to  act  a  friendly j|>{|,rt  or  an- 
unfriendly  on^J!  never  knew  ;  whether  the  Superior  had  at 
first  Buppo&ed  me  to  have  an  e^jbate  in  expectation,  'or  to 
belong  to  a  rich  family,  and  afterwards  had  ascertained  t|iat 
I  was  destitute,  the  fact  was,  that  I  was  suddenly  condemned 
to  the  lowest  grade  in  the  convent,  and  required  to  perform 
a  large  share  of  the  most  menial  and  laborious  work  in  the 
house.  With  a  heavy  heart  I  bowed  to  my  fate  ;  but  the 
wretchedness  which  I  endured  was  great  indeed.  The  Supe- 
rior seemed  to  be  destitute  of  all  compassion — ^not  a  sign 
of  commiseration  did  I  perceive  in  her,  and  although  the 
nuns  bad  no  reason  to  dislike  me,  they  seldom  showed  me 
any  sympathy,  or  appeared  to  entertain  any  of  the  regard  for 
me  which  I  had  always  supposed  was  fel|  by  those  who  called 
each  other  "sisters.'' 


4    •«<•' 


y^^-\  \   • 


Miseries  of 


Nun. 


95 


It  is  trae  that  they  were  generally  engrossed  with*heir 
own  troubles,  for  they  seemed  almost  all  unhappy,  having 
not  found  the  convent  what  they  had  expected  to  find  it° 
and  bitterly  repenting  that  theyhad  ever  entered  it.    Those 
who  had  become  nuns  from  choice,  had  discovered  that  their 
Ideas  of  convent  life  had  be^ji.  entirely  errpneous,  and  that 
they  had  been  deceived.     Such,  as  had  been  actuated  fey  a 
desire  to  gain  heaven  by  a  life  of  self^enial,  saw  evidence  - 
around  them  that  there  was  ver^  Uttle  increase  iii  holiness  in 
their  companions,  and  that  the  Superior  and  older  nuns 
were  further  from  the  kingdom  of  God  than  the  innocent 
and  artless  novices.   The  priests  who  came  in  to  confess  them, 
they  found  no  reason  to  respect ;  and  they  found  themselves 
becoming  less  and  less  content  with  the  tiresome  and  uninter- 
mitting  rounds  of  prayers  and  ceremonies,  and  less  and  less    * 
capable  of  those  holy  meditations  and  enjoyments  in  which 
t^y  had  been  taught*  to  expect  a  state  of  happiness  like 
that  of  heaven.     In  short,  they  had  found  themselves  to  be 
viptims  of  a  gross  system  of  deception,  and  were  in  despaif, 
Jiecause  they  knew  that  escape  WM  impossible.       "    - 

Those^who  had  families,.had  the  sad  reflection  4 make, 
that  they  were  separated  from  them  for  ever ;  and  ai^^ough" 
like  other  nuns,  they  had  been  kept  in  ignorance  of  almost 
every  useful  kind  of  Wjedge,  and  often  entertained  the 
most  erroneous  and  e^Sy^h  and  ludicrous  motions  of 
thmgs  in  common  life  outside  of  the  convent  w;ilfl,  they 
were  thoroughly  taught  enough  of  the  laws  of  the  country 
and  practice  towards  fugitive  nans,  to  understand  that  there 
was  no  hope  of  escape.  ,  they  knew  that  the  civU  laws  give  ' 


mmm 


>>.:■ 


) 


I  :  :.\ 


96 


GORALLA. 


all  their  support  tathe  priests  to  secure  to  them  the  entire 
control  of  the  convent  and  their  inmates  ;  and  that  the  pub- 
lic officers  are  always  ready  to  assist  in  re-capturirig  those 
who  leave  their  confinement.     They  are  evef  ready  to  raise 
a  hue  and  cry,  and  to  track,  follow,  and  seize  a  fugitive  nun, 
wherever  she  may  seek  conceahnent,  and  for  whatever -cause 
she  may  have  fled.     They  know  that-they  have  lio  friends 
outside  frho  would  dare   to  concert  measures  for  their 
safety ;  and  even  if  such  might  exist,  forgiving  enough 
to  pardon  their  voluntary  abandonment  of  their  parents, 
brothers  sisters,  and  friends,  and  daring  enough  to  risk  the 
severe  punishment  threatened  by  the  laws,  who  could  open 
correspondence  with^hem  ?     But  there  were  some  of  the 
nuns  who  had  not  indeed  occasion  to  reproach  themselves 
with  ingratitude  towards  their  parents  and  other  relations  ; 
there  were  those  who  had  not  entered  the  convent  from 
choice,  but  had  been  sent  the/e  against  their  will.    Some  of 
them  had  been  inveigled  there  by  false  pretences,  and  then 
incarcerate4  at  the  desire  of  persons  who  wished  to  obtain 
their  property.  This  is  a  very  common  thing,  as  I  have  reason 
to  believe,  in  other  parts  of  Italy,  and  in  all  other  countries 
whereFconvents  exist.     No  two  cases  may  be  exactly  alike  ; 
but  many  resemble  each  other  in  this,  that  a  helpless  girl  is 
'  •  made  the  victim  of  the  avarice  of  some  person  or  persons  in 
or  out  of  the  convent.     The  bishop  or  other  ecclesiastic,  ' 
secretly  ascertains  the  amount  and  position  of  her  expected 
estate,  and  then  resorts  ta  every  possible  means  to  obtaift  it. 
If  she  is  accessible  to  the  influence  of  any  of  hia  spies,  or 
emissaries,  he  sends  to  her  an  insidions  agent,  in  the  shape  of 


.^   - 


Gonyknt  Cheats. 


97 


a  confessor,  ^n  applicant  for  charity,  a  servant,  a  teacher  of 
music,  a  gentleman  of  pleasing  manners,  who  flatters  her 
with  his  attentions,  or  a  grave  and  courteous  lady,  of  middle 
age,  who  expresses  a  great  and  motherly  interest  in  her 

\^  trials  and  her  pleasures,  sfie  is  gradually  drawn  towards 
Xthe  convent,  as  a  visitor,  and  there  finds  impressive  scenes 
prepared  for  her,  which  are  carefully  adapted  to  her  peculiar 
character  or  sbote  of  mind.  She  is.  induced  (perhaps  as  she 
supposfes  through  fuere  accident),  to  witness  a  procession  of 
nims  proceeding  to"  vespers,  at  the  hour  of  twilight,  through 
the  distant  galleries  leading  to  their  chapel ;  or  she  comes 
unexpectedly  in  view  ot  a  beautiful  young  lady  at  her 

.  solitary  devotions,  before  an  image  of  the  Virgin,  in  a  lovely 
attitude,,  which  has  been  studiously  fixed  by  the  Superior, 
expressly  for  the  occasion;  or  she  happens  to  hold  an  .^ter- 
view  with  such  a  nun,  in  which  the  enchanting  attjllciions 

,  of  convent  life  are  described  i^  ttrms  which  she^has  ieen 
taught  by  hei^t,  for  the  very  purpose  of  deceiving  her,  and 
which  are  repeated,  it  may  be,  under  the  fear  of  some  severe 
punishment,  and  within  the  hearing  of  the  Superior,  or  the 
bishop,  05  both,  concealed  behind  tome  of  the  holy  objects 
around  them.  If  the  young  heiress  is  found  to  be  impressed 
by  means  like  these,  she  is  probably  present  at  the  next 
reception  of  a  nun,  when  a  great  pubUc  display,  is  made,  and 
everything  prepared  cadculated  tb  make  an  impressive  effect. 


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98 


60RAI4LA. 


J  1 1. 

IiM^fcigUng  Girla  into  ConTent»-How  FrlenUa  are  Treated  who  Oppose  Or  oyect- 
Their  Charactera  Aspersed-Buslness  Injured-ImprUoned-LlTes  Destroyed— 
Unhapplnessof  the  Nuns  In  the  Oonvents-Prayer-my  only  Bolace-Bopes  and  . 
Fears  for  the  Future.  , 

rt,i^  friend  is  likely  to  oppose  obstacles  in  the  way 
of  bringing  a  victim  into  a  convent,  any  nec€(ssary  expe- 
dient is  resorted  to,  to  prevent  and  cbuhteract  his  influence. 
False  reports  are  raised  against  a  father,  an  un<j^  a  brother; 
or  a  guardian,  by  which  his  character  is  injured,  Jiis  business 
impaired  or  ruined,  his  courage  i?  overcom^  -He  is  pro- 
secuted for  debt,  by  somQ  one  who'  has  ^fent  mm  money,  or 
^P^naide  a  contract  with  him  for  that  express  purpose  ;  he  is, 
perhaps,' written  to  from  a  distance,  to  make  a  jotttney  on 
business,  for  pleasure,  or  for  the  comfort  of  some  person  m 
distress,  aud  is  detained  or  imprisoned  far  from  home ;  or 
wounded  or  killed  on  the  road.  The  Inquisition  has  often 
given  its  assistance  in  cases  of  this  kind ;  and  the  father  or 
friend  mqst  disposed  to  defeat  the  designs  of  the  rapacious 
persecutor  of  a  young  heiress,  has,  in  many  instances,  been 
denounced  by  an  unknown  accuser,  and  then  seized  at  mid- 
night by  a  band  of  familiars,  "  in  ike  name  of  the  Holy 
Office,^*  put  into  a  secret  dungeon,  never  to  be  heard  of 


\ 


,./■ 


■*i" 


-jjjr'ft'^      »       '   J    1^  -  ijij.  *.i>»i|,7'«K'>r? 


..^,j 


^'         .'        ■    '        ,  ,,.'■""?■; 

^  AVABBCE    AND    CbUKLTV.  99 

'lagam,  until  the  sound  of  the  last  -trumpet.  Thousands  of 
such  cases  have  occurred,  I  have  no  doubt,  in  the  kmgdom 
of  Naples,  and  in  other  parts  of  Italy  ;  and  numbers  of  our 
nuns,  I  had  reason  to  believe,  had  been  brought  into' the 
convent  by  somewhat  similar  plots.  Other  objects  more 
'  nefarious,  are  certainly  very  often  the  motives ;  but  modesty 
forbids  me  to  speak  of  them. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  more  than  one  person  is  con- 
cerned in  the  enterprise,  who  agree  |nd  share  in  the  plunder 
of  the  property  taken  from  the  victiml.'  -  A  priest  and  a 
•    lawyer,  or  a  profligate  relation,  or  family  friend,  combine 
their  infernal  arts,  and  afterwards  divide  the  spoil.    As 
every  nun  is  required  to  renounce  her  worldly  possessions,' 
under  the  fiction  of  giving  herself  to  the  service  of  God,' 
.   devoting  her  life  to  the  saving  of  her  soul,  and  being  "  mar- 
ried to  Jesus  Christ,"  she  is  regarded  by  the  civil  laws  of 
Popish  countries,  as  well  as  bji  the  canon  law  of  Rome,  as 
*-  |ng  n<i  power  to  hold  property,  and  her  estate  goes  to 
^husband— the  church.    It  is  taken  from  her  control 
and' possession,  and  nominaUy  given  to  the  convent,  but 
usually,  in  whole,  or  in  part,  in  some  way  or  o*ther,  is  so  dis-    ■ 
posed  of,  that,  it  passes  into  the  hands  of  her  robbers. 
When  too.  late,  the  poor  girl,  though  born  ^d  reared  in 
comfort,  abundance,  or  perhaps,  in  the  highe'st  ranks  of 
opulent  society,  sopn  finds  herself  left  to  sink  to  the  degraded  ' 
level  o^  common  quns.    She  may,  perhaps,  incur  the  displea- 
sure or  dislike  of  the  Superior  j  and  then  woe  to  he?  1    She 
wUl  find  she  has  a  tormentor  near  at  hand,  with  full  power 
to  wreak  her  vengeance  on  one  ^om  she  may  hate  for  her 


■  ,f 


100 


CORALLA. 


i 


..>'* 


beauty,  or  her  birth,  or  the  favor  temporarUy  shown  her  by 
the  bishop,  or  others  in  power  above  ^er. 

Bnt  I  have  dwelt  loo  long  on  the  trials  and  sorrows  of 
'*'  ,  ,nuns,  though  I  might  go  on  for  many  hours  in  recounting 
the 'numerous  other  troubles  and  wrongs  to  which  they  are 
exposed,  varying  in  a  thousand  ways,  according  ao  cases 
*  and  circumstances.    I  saw  enough,  as  I  have  said  before,  to 
■^  be  convinced  that  the  poor  TJrsuline  nuns  at  Punta  del 
Monico  were  so  wretchetl  themselves,  that  they  deserved  to 
be  excused  for  not  showing  me  much  sympathy  or  interest. 
After  the  first  shock,  produced  by  my  change  of  position  in 
the  convent,  I  began  to  accommodate  myself .  somewhat  to 
my  fate  ;  and,  as  I  found  some  of  my  poor  fellow  drudges 
disposed  to  be  ki^d,  and  to  render  me  some  assistance  in  my 
^   labors,  I  began  to  think  my  life  not  quite  intolerable,  though 
still  the  most  painful  that  I  had  any  idea  of.    I  had  one 
great  relief,'being  excused  from  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
prayers,  meditations,  and  other  religious  exercises  to  which 
1     the  other  nuns  were  daily  subjected.    I  had  still  enough  left 
/    to  occupy  a  pact  of  my  time  every  day ;  and  I  was  permitted^ 
to  enjoy  a  release  from  my  domestic  labors  at  fixcK|||Eirs,  in 
order  to  per|'orm,  them.    Partly  because  t  then  "enjoyed 
repose  from  severe  and  often  disgusting  work,  and  partly 
because  I  had  quietness,  and  opportunity  for  prayer,  I  really 
enjoyed  some  of  these  exercises  ;  and  I  now  look  back  upon 
the  time  I  then  spent  in  the  chapel,  as  the  only  moments 
when  I  had  any  peace  or'  pleasure.    I  was  impressed  with 
deep  melancholy  by  my  loneliness,  friendlessness,  and  help- 
lessness ;  and  felt  that  I  had  no  help  or  hope  in  this  world. 


l--^--. 


-\ 


■)  ■•yT™-;^'-   Tifw*^ 


I 


MbNTAL    SOFFEMNG8. 


■    \ 
101 


All  around  mg  were  destitute  df  disposition  or  a^)Uity  to 
make  me  happy  ;  and  the  ideas  I  had  of  Jdod,  impe^cct  as 
they  were,  inclined  me  to  seek  his  protecUon  and  hope  in 
his  mercy.  I  was  taught  to  offer  petitions  to  the  saints, 
especially  to  the  Holy  Virgin  and  St.  Ursula,  the  patron  of 
our  convent  ahd  order  ;  but  I  felt  that  the  Almighty  must 
be  my  great  reliance  ;  and  it  strengthened  and  encouraged 
me  to  think  of  his  power  and  will  to  help  and  save. 

I  sometimbs  dwelt  so  much  upon  the  uncertainty  of  my 
birth  and  family,  that  I  found  myself  forming  conjectures 
about  my  parents  and  relatives,  and  indulging  hopes,  and 
even  expectations,  of  some  day  having  Ihe  mystery  solved. 
I  would  imagine  that  some  happy  circumstance  had  brought 
it  to  light,  that  all  was  explained,  and  that  my  parents  pre- 
sented themselves  and  claimed  me  as  their  child  ;  or,  that  I 
sought  and  found  them,  and  was  acknowledged  with  joy,  and 
receiv£|d  wjth  a  warm  welcome  into  a  happy  family  circle. 
Love,  s^ch  &s  I  imagined  that  of  a  daughter  and  a  mother,! 
was  what  I  longed  for,  and  prized  more  highly  than  any  other 
good  ;  and  my  ardent  desire  for  it  led  me  into. many  reve- 
ries.   They  were,  however,  by  no  means,  always  of  the 
agreeable  kind  which  I  have  mentioned.    I  more  frequently 
anticipated  the  sorrows  of  a  long  life  of  friendless  orphanr 
age,  of  which  I  had  already  had  so  bitter  experience.    And 
the  worst  of  my  forebodings  I  think  I  often  realized  ;  for  my 
labors  were  unintermitted/rom  morning  till  the  hour  of  "Ave 
Maria;"  and  I  daily  suflfered  harsh  treatmenJ^  from  the  Supe- 
rior, and  some  of  the  nuns ;  and  the  contempt  and  arrogance 
of  the  priests.    When  exhausted,  as  I  often  was  at  the  close 


/ 


N    >^. 


102 


OORALLA. 


m. 

.  i 


of  day,  by  my  severe  toils,  and  desponding  under  the  load  ol 
sad  reflections  which  asnally  burdened  my  heart,  I  often  felt 
that  I  had  not  a  ray  of  b©pe  to,fheer  me,  and  wad  glad  to 
sink  to  sleep,  that  I  might  find  a  temporary  relief  in  uncon- 
scionsnessi.  y-     < 

'  I  mnst  her^,  how^r,  particularly  mention  a  chief  source 
of  my  wretchednesv^icrwas  altogether '^  mental.  Hind 
which  would  have  been  quite  as  severe,  I  hdvefno  doubt,  ijf^^ 
I  had  been  situated  in  more  agreeal;>le  circumstances  in 
other>«8pects  ;  at  least,  duMng  so  much  of  my  time  as  I 
should  allow  my  tlioughts  to  dwell  upon  it.    This  was  the 
dread  of  purgatory.    It  may  be  that  some  Roman  Xath- 
plics  may  view  that  awful  place  differently  from  myself, 
though.  I  cidiuf^t  understand  how  any  person^  who  believes 
in  it  can  possibly  endure  to  think  about  it.    For  my  own 
part,  I  often  had  before  me  the  dread  of  the  terrible  pains ' 
which  all  must  suffer  there  after  death.    J  had  great  hor- 
ror at  the  thought  at  previous  times,  but  then  I  was  not  able 
to  avoid,  so  much  as  before,  to  thiitk^of  them.    In  those 
days,  having  very  little  opportunity  to  converse,  as  our  time 
of  si}ence  was  strictly  observjed  in  th0  nunnery,  I  had  m> 
way  to  divert  my  mind  from  the'  dreadful  topic  ;  a,nd  I  often 
spent  a  great  part  of  the  day  in  fancying  that  I  was  act^i- 
ally  in  the  midst  of  the  flames  of  purgatory.      \^ 


'5/*'i 


:) 


f? 


/ 


■^ 


KWI^  *."»■       i'i 


■f  ;7-< 


V^\  i    J      TR* 


PiCnmCS    OF    PUROATORY, 


108 


1 


"-V 


'  'I 


V  f 


'■•.'''■  ■•  ;  •       -        '  •  ■ !  . 

Wghtftil  Plotare*-l!oala  In  Pnrgatory-The  Impreiilona  they  mk«  on  (aildren- 
Dread  ot;Pm-gatonr-Oulp»hUlty  of  Parenta  ip  sending  Danghten  to  konneriei. 

m 

You  hare,  I  presume,  somewhere  seen  the  pictures  of 
Hell  an(J  Purgatory.    They  are  shown,  I  believe,  at 
some  time  or.  other,  to  eveiy  child  who -is  taught  by  nuns 
or  pi^sts J  and  I  am  sure  that  the  sight  can  never  be  for- 
gotten during  one?fl  life,    The  horrible  faces  and  writhing 
forms  of  the  souls  in  pftrgatorj,  as  they  were  painted  in  out 
Convent  pictures,  were  frequently  before  my  eyes,  as,  indeed, 
they  nbw  appear  to  be.    I  know  not  how  it  is'in  Catholic 
countries  generally,  bpt  in  those  parts  of  Italy  which  I  have 
seen,  pictures  of  the  souls  in  purgatory  are  daubed  on  the 
walls  of  the  hermitages,  churches,  ahd  the  corners  of  streets 
—wherever  the  monks  and  priests  take  their  stations,  whose 
business  it  is  to  ask  for  contributions  to  pay  for  masses  and 
prayers,  to  be  offered  for  the  shortening  of  the  terrors  of  - 
the  wretched  ^jufferers  who  have  not  finished  the  peric^ 
required  to  pu^  them  from  their  crhninality.    I  pre$utae 
that  the  frequency  of  such  pictures  so- habituates  the.pdople 
to  the  subject,  %t  th^  lose  much  of  tlje  horror  with  which 
I  was  go  long  overwhelm^  by  the  imilaressioBs  of  the  tew]  ^ 


«  "1-  'MT— i 


**": 


ifi^ 


■K 


of 


«» 


>-   ( :' 


104 


GOBALLA. 


V. 


but  well-execated  paintings  of,  purgatory  which  I  occasion- 
ally saw,  and  the  absence  of  other  things  to  divert  my  mind 
from  them.    • 

I  might  go  on  and  enlarge  much  more  on  my  sufferings 
in  the  convent,  and  the  causes  and  aggravations  of  them, 
but  I  must  pass  to  other  topics/after  expressing  my  feel- 
ings on  one  subject*o»  which  I  often  have  made  solemn 
reflection^,  i  have  often  felt  the  strongest  desire  to  remon- 
strate with  parents,  and  especially  mothers,  on  the  inj^g^e 
and  cruelty  of  sending  their  daughters  to  nunneries.  uoiTd , 
they  see  what  I  have  seen,  ^they  never  would  take  such  a^^ 
step:  could  th^  hav? felt* what  I  have  heard  others -^i 
press,  and  what  I  have  known  by  my  own  experience, 
nothing  on  ewth  could  ever  induce  .^oAedf  them  to  permit 
a  child  so^  much  as  to  approach  a  convent,  or  hold  any 
intercourse  with  the  priests  or  their  emissaries,  who  go 
about  to  inyeigle  the  inexperienced  and  unsuspecting. 
Many  a  fond  parent,  who  has  a  daughter  in  a  convent, 
deceives  herself  with  the  hop*  that  her  child  is  happy,  in 
the  enjoyment  of  a  holy  seclusion,  safe  from  the  temptations 
and  dangers  of  the  world.  She  confides  in  the  promises 
made,  and  the  assurances  given,  thinking  that  all  must  be 
right,  and  that  everything  is  as  it  seems.  How  sad  is 
genially  the  reverse,  how  different  is  the  tale  which  the 
poor»girI  would  tell,  if  allowed,  as  she  ought  to  be,\o  speak 
the  truth  freely  II  was,  by  no  means,  the  only  melancholy 
and  Iffokeh-hearted  nun  at  Funta  del  Monaco.  Others 
were  sad  and  gloomy  ;  in  fact,  it  was  rare  in  that  convent, 
as  I  believe  it  is  in  all  others,  to  find  -atiy  Of  Me  inmftteiP 


..,tft^  r 


V.' 


Appeal  to  Parents. 


105 


S 


cheerful,  or  to  see  a  smUe,  except  those  affected  ones  which 
are  pott  on  by  some  in  the  presence  of  visitors.  Under  t^e 
8trict» rules  for  the  occupation  of  time,  the  forced  silence  -"^ 

during  most  of  the  hours  when  the  nuns  are  assembled  for    - 
work,  at  meals,  &c.,  and  the  system  of  mutual  espionage,  and 
prevailing  suspicion  of  each  other,  thA'e  is  but  little  oppor- 
tunity for  any  one  to  become  acquainted  with  the  real  feel- 
ings  of  l^er  companions.    I  know  enough,  however,  to  be 
assured  tharthe  c<mvent  was  a  place  of  misery,  a  perfect 
prison,  and  house  of  punishment,  and  I  might  say  of  torture, 
moral  and  mental.    |fo  I  am  sure  almost,  every  nun  would    ' 
have  declared,  if  allowed  the  freedom  of  speech  ;  and  I  am    . 
confident  that  every  one  wonld  have  been  glad  to  leave  it 
in  a  moment,  if  she  had  known  of  any  place  of  refuge,  and 
secured  froio  &e  dreadful  severity  of  the  laws,  which,  to  the 
ima^ntftion  of  the  poor,  timid  nun,  always  hang,  like  a  dark 
thunder-cloud,  all  round  the  convent  outride  of  the  walls. 
And  to  her  everything  beyond  is  gloom,  danger,  and  feftr- 
Her  friends,  if  she  ever  had  any,  she  has  renounced,  at  they  •  '^ 
have  renounced  her  ;  and  there  is  not  a  ray  of  hope'^uot  a 
way  of  escape,  or  a  place  of  refuge  on  earth. 

How  wonderful,  it  has  seemed  to  me,  that  Mends,  and 
especially  parents,  do  not  duly  consider  this,  before  they 
place  young  girls  in  convents,  or  allow  them  to  be  exposed 
to  be  inveigled  into  them  1  If  I  could  speak  with  any  who 
contemplate  such  a  step,  I  am  sure  I  could  persuade  them 
to  abandon  so  foolish,  so  unnatural,  so  ruinous  an  intention. 
I  could  tell  them  truths  which  they  could  not  resist,  and 


give  them  reasons  which  they  could  not  withstand.    To  go 
•  •       6*  * 


u^^m 


fltft^^SS'ftJi  ^SSS^FC- 


106 


CORALLA. 


farther  than  I  have  yet  gone,  I  conld  tell  mothers  what  I 
can  only  intimate  to  othei^.  I  conld  show  them  that  their 
daughters  would  be  exposed  to  any  treatment  to  which'  the 
men  who  have  control  within  the  walls  might  choose  to 
subject  them,  and  those  men,  often  the  most  degraded  and 
vicious  of  the  humaif  ra<7B,  trained  to  iniquity,  accustomed 
to  hear  sin  justified  by  false  reasoning  under  the  cloak  of 
religion,  and  encouraged  by  the  general  example  of  others, 
and  emboldened  by  the  entire  secresy  which  they  can  draw 
around  them.  Such  are  bishops  and  priests  ;  and,  as  they 
hatft,  power  to  remove  'and  replace  the  Superiors  of  con- 
vents, and  control  over  the  old  nuns,  who  are  the  officers 
under  her,  there  is  nothing  wanting  to  render  a  nunnt^ry^ 
such  as  I  have  known^  not  only  an  unfit  place  fat  a  virtuous 
young  woman,  but  the  most  unfit  on  earth.  O  parents  I 
parents  I  iSow  can  you  be  so  blind  to  th&  worst-  enemies 
of  your  daughters  ? 


i 


.11 


y 


CiPOBATELLO. 


;o* 


r* 


/ 


\f 


V.  ■         . .    .   . 

CiporateUo— Hta  equlrocsl'  PoaiUon  in  the  OonTent— An  aocidental  Dlacorery— 
Forced  to  leare  the  Convent  at  Hidnlght-My  Ufe  threatened-Tbe  (j^ve  of  the 
8«a-wolf— DeicripUon  of  it-My  LUje  there-Iti  Advantages  and  Dangers. 

rilHERE  was  an  old  man  who  lived  in  the  convent,  who 
had  the  care  of  the  garden,  and  was  oiften  in  the 
kitchen,  having  but  little  real  business  or  labor  of  any  kind. 
He  had  resided  th«re  long  before  my  acquaintance  with  the 
convent,  and,  after  I  had  been  there  several  years,  was 
taken  sick  and  died.     Another  man,  much  younger,  was 
soon  put  in  his  place,  who  appeared  to  me  of.a  doubtful 
character.    There  wiA  something  sinister  in  his  aspect,  and 
his  behavior  excited  suspicion  in  me  that  he  was  not  worthy 
to  be  trusted.     Yet  I  had  never  seen  anything  in  his 
conduct   thilt   was   positively  wrong,'  and   I   sometimes 
thought  my  dislike  of  him  might  perhaps  be  unjust.    As 
I  was  required  to  spend  much  of  my  time  in  the  convent 
kitchen   in   the   long  winter  eveidngs,    I    saw  more  of 
CiporateUo 'than  I  wished;  but  although  he  probably  had 
long  been  watching,  for  an  opportunity  to  commit^  some   * 
depredation,  he  had  so  much  concealment,  that  1  never 


'..<tk 


r'^mmmmiu'itmkjm'.mim 


108 


GORALLA. 


Afterwards  found,  to  my  snrpiiso,  that  I  yas  totbe  an- 
anwilling  associate.  / 

It  hiippened,  by  some  accident,  that  I  p^ned  the  door 
into  the  court-yard,  one  night,  ia,t  a  very' Iate~fa<Mir,  when  / 
every thipg  was  qniet,  and  I  supposed  no  one  was  awake. 
To 'my  surprise,  I  discovered  Giporatellp,  in  the  act  of 
breaking  open  a  box  containing,  a  lar^e  sum  of  money 
belonging  to  the  convent,  of  which  he  obtained  possession. 
Seeing  me  appeu*,  he  told^  me  that  "k  i^ust  on  no  account 
make  any  noise,  threatening  me  if  I  daifed  even  to  speak  a 
word.  He  said  he  was  resolved  to  leftve  the  convent  after 
getting  the  money,  and  that  I  must/ accompany  him.  He 
would  not  leave  me  behind,  because  I  would  certainly  be  a 
witnes^against  him.  >  Then,  as  sooq  as  he  had  opened  the 
box  and  taken  possession  of  the  contents,  which  he  put  into 
his  pockets,  he  took  me  with  a  strpng  graep,  led  me  to  the 
wall  of  the  yard,  where  he  had  hung  a  rope-ladder  from  the 
top,  and  insisted  on  my  climbing  up  an4  passing  over  and 
down  into  the  street.  Although  I  objected  and  resisted  as 
much  as  I  dared,  he  succeeded,  partly  by  liftiAg  and  pulling 
me,  and  partly  by  threats  of  filling  me,  in  getting  me  up 
the  ladder  and  down  on  the  opposite  side. 

On  reaching  the  ground  he  peremptorily  commanded  me 
to  hasten  away  without  a  moment'^  delay,  and  I  could  do 
nothing  but  obey,  for  he  vraa  excited  in  a  high  degree,  and  I 
had  no  doubt  that  he  would  sooner  murder  nie  than  leave 
me  behind  him  alive,  to  bear  witness  against  him  in  case  qf 
his  arrest,  of  which  he  evidently  was  in  the  utmost  fear. 
We  harried  along  ttoongh  the  =4i 


i;v 


The  Sea-Wolf's  Cave. 


109 


rocky  way,  until  we-reaclted  a  wild  and  solitary  spot-en  the 
searshore,  when  I  found  we"  were  at  the  entrance  of  a 
cavern,  called  the  Grotta  de^Ua  Ungtia  Marina,  of  Gave  of 
the  Sea-wolf;  and  there  he  insisted  that  I.  should  enter  and 
remain.    No  objections  that  I  would  make,  no  petitions 
that  I  would  offer  had  the  least  eflfect  upon  him.    JB» 
ordered  me  to  go  in,  and  I  was' compelled  to  obey.    He 
threatened  me  again,  in  order  to  make  me  keep  close,  but 
told  me  that  he  had  no  wish  to  do  me  ^  harm,  and  that  I 
might  Ifelyon  his  taking  care  of  me,  if  I  woujfl  avoid 
observation,  and  do  n<Jthing  to  betray  his  retreat.    He  knew 
that  a  strict  search  would  be  made  for  him,  as  soon  as  his" 
absence  should  be -ascertained,  and  the  robbery  of  the  chest 
discovered,  and  that,  if  arrested,  he  wouia  find  no  mercy. 
He  knew  that  I  had  much  reason  also  to  fear  for  myself,' 
becAuse  appearances  were  very  strong  against  me,  and  I 
could  have  no  assurance  that  I  should  not  be  condemned 
and  punishea  with  him,  in  spite  of  any  protestations  I  might 
._make  of  my  innocence.    In  truth,  this  was  so  evident  to  ' 
me,  and  I  was  so  much  affected  by  the  fear  of  punishment 
on  the  one  hand,  and  by  the  desire  of  liberty  on  the  other, 
that  I  was  wilUng,  after  recovering  a  little  from   my 
""agitation,  to  promise  him  to  keep  close  in  the  cave,  and  to 
use  every  precaution  agamst  our  mutual  esposure. 

Ciporatello  was  as  good  as  his  word  in  providing  for  my 
subsistence,  and  in  treating  me  with  kindness.  He  proved 
that  he  was  weU  acquainted  with  the  neighboring  parts  of 
the  istond,  and  knew  where  to  procure  necessary  food 


fritfeoirt  exppsm^  ^gytpif  to  detection.    He  went  away  and 


'-'i^*^iUNItt«MeMb#>«iMiM«a 


■■^^KV^-,^'j 


■H.. 


x**""^. 


110 


♦*.' 


COBALLA. 


returned  before  daylight,  and  brought  back  a>  fSapplj  .of 
proTisions,  which  he  jhared  with  me,  and  allowed  me  to 
^    leave  the  cave  and  go  to  a. short  distance  whenever  he 
thought  it  prudent,  keeping  a  strict  watch  to  prevent  my 
exposing  myself,  except  when  assured  beforehand  that  no' 
stranger  was  in  the  vicinity.     He  always  took  the  utmost 
cannon  also  in  surveying   the   neighborhood   before   he 
ventured  out  himself;  and  I  had  no  doubt  that  housed 
great  sagacity  in  all  his  excursions,  though  I  was  not\able 
to  learn  whither  he  went,  or  of  whom  he  obtained\  the 
various  articles  with  which   he  retu|*ned.      I   know^^  he 
had  money  enough  to  last  a  long  time  tfhe  purchased  them 
at  the  low  prices  current  on  that  rude-  and  lonely  island; 
and  I  was  suspicious  that  he  had  some  -accomplice  not  fajf 
"  off,  with  whom  he  might  be  engaged  in  crimes,  and  a  partner 
in  these  and  other  ill-gotten  gains.    However,  these  were 
merely  conjectures,  of  which  I  had  no  direct  confirmation. 
My  subsequent  acquaintance  with  him  Convinced  me  that  he 
was  experienced  in  crime,  and  that  he  was  capable  of  any . 
wickedness  when  stimulated  by  necessity,  though  by  no 
means  destitute  of  natural  good  feelings  when'  circumstances 
/allowed  them  uninterrupted  action. 

I  soon  learned  that  we  had  a  safe  retreat,  and  that  we 
might  probably  long  remain  undisturbed  in  the  Sea-wolfs 
cavern,  unless  some  very  extraordinary  misfortune  should 
befall  us.  The  few  fishermen  jrho  visited  that  retired  part 
of  the  island,  seemed  to  feel  no  interest  in  our  wild  and 
secluded  nook,  and  perhaps  shunned  it  on  account  of  some  of 
those  Huperaiitlons  isarff  with  Which  such  persons  are  ofteC 


•■'   \- 


0 


^- 


"X 


'      *  '  "EtijoYMxisna.  '        m 

influenced.  -I  enjoyed  myself  in  some  respects  very  highly, 
being  exempt  from  labor  and  care,  and  freed  from  the 
presence  of  my  late  companions  in  the  Panta  del  Monico, 
whose  walla  I  had  often  longed  to  be  removed  from  for  ever. 
The  pleasnre  I  dftUy  derived  from  my  deUverance  from  them, 

^  and  the  labors  and  discipline  tq  which  I  had  so  long  been- 
subject,  was  greater  than  I  could  express.  Beitig  so  near 
the  water,  on  which  I  conld  gaze  in  peace,  I  spent  much  of 
my  time  in  the  open  air,  meditating  as  I  pleased,  under  the 
clear  and  mUd  sky  of  that  deUghtfal  climate.  The  weather 
is  so  temperate,  eyen  in  winter,  that  fire-places  are  never  to 
be  seen  in  the  bouses,  not  even  in  the  vast  luxurious  city 
of  Naples,  which  is  in  sight  from  the  island  of  Capri.  Of 
course,  I  had  no  suflTering  from  cold  to  endure,  or  to 
apprehend;  and  in  storms  or  hot  weather  in  summer,  I  'had 
an  excellent  shelter  to  retreat  to,  in  my  wild  and  lonely^ 

cavern. 


/• 


r'? 


h  4       . 


112 


GOBALi;^. 


t^iplTW' 


Olporatello'.  Dlttppe««ce-My  D«ger  iu>d  Pr.tfeot»-Dep»rta«.  from  Cprl- 
N*ple.  -  Owerto  -  Capiw  -  Arrerted  -  ImprUonment  -  llelem8.-8airemigt_ 
toofrlo-Hl,  KtodneM-,Idte  with  my  New  Mend.-<Mpor.Wlo  Appe«_ 
WanderiDg  Life-Appeal  to  Hotben  against  ConTenta.  ^  . 

A  ND  thus  I  re^iained,  not  withoat  some  fears  of  dis- 
iX    coyery,  arrest,  and  punishment,  or  at  least  of  bein^ 
taken  back  to  the  convent,  nntU  almost  three  months  had 
passed,  when  I  was  suddenly  left  alone,  without  any  warn- 
ing,  and  without  being  able  to  divine  the  reason.    Cipo- 
ratello  went  away  one  evening  as  usual,  without  giving  me 
any  intimation  of  his  intentions,  or  even  of  the  direction  of 
his^xcursion  ;  and  I  remained,  as  usual,  quietly  expecting 
his  return  the  next  day/  But  the  sun  rose  and  set,  and  I 
saw  nothing  of  him.    The  foUowing  day  and  the  next 
passed,  without  any  news  of  him  ;  and  then  I  began  to  fefel 
anxious.    While  a  stock  o/.  ^ovisfons  remained,  I  felt  no 
great  anxiety,  but  as  it  soon  grew  smaU,  my  apprehensions 
were  seriously  excited;  and  I  be^an  to  ask  myself  howl 
should  Avow  dying  of  hunger.    There  were  fish  in  the  sea 
-which  washed  the  rocks  near  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  ;  but 
Ciporatelh)  had  seldom  made  any  attempt  to  catch  them 
and  then  had  bnt,  little  Buccosg ;  and,  whiln-i^^gred^   ' 


"*? 


*«  Vjf, 


% 


Dkpartore  from  the  Cavb.  --«  118 

1 
expose  myself  W  observation  by  appearing  on  the  shore,  I 
hiMi^  skiU  in  fishing,  and  conld  not  expect  tp  obtain  my 
livelihool|i  in  that|way.   The  barren  rocks  around  meyielded 
.  no  vegetables  fit  for  food,  and  I  feared  to  approa«h  any 
inhabited  part  of  the  island,  lest  I  should  be  seized  and 
taken  ^k  to  the  convent.\|^  therefore  felt greatly  at  a 
loss,  and  remained;  in  the  cave  as  long  as  Iconld  make  nly 
:  provision^  hold  oijt:  but  I  at  length  found  it  necessary  to 
go  somewhere  in  search  of  fbod,  or  starve  on  the  spot. 
.  Although  the  dread  of  the  coiiyent  was  before  me,  I  reflected 
that  I  had  some  prospect  of  eicaphig  from  the  island  with- 
out  detection  or  even  suspicion.    My  clothes  had  Jlong  since 
beep  changed  :  for,  while  Ciporatello  had  plenty  of  mouey 
he  -had  been  liberal  with  it,  and  had  purchased  for  me  a 
supply  of  such  garmeuts  as  I  wished,  so  that  I  was  now 
able  to  dress  myself  like  the  women  of  the  island,  without 
weanng  any  mark  of  a  nun.    I  had  also  a  Uttle  money  with 
which  I  might  buy  food  enough  for  at  least  a  short  tiine  • 
and,  what  to  me  appeared  a  thousand  times  more  important,' 
I  mifi^t  pay  my  passage  to  Naples,  or  to  some  nearer  part 
of  the  coast,  in  one  of  the  little  boats  which  daily  saU  to 
diflferent  points,  to  carry  ifish  and  other  articles  from  Capri 
to  market.  j 

I  proceeded  according^,  dressed  myself  in  such  a  manner 
as  best  spted  to  my  object,  destroyed  every  remnant  of 
what  I  did  not  need,  took  with.me  the  few  articles  I  had  in   / 
the  world,  especiaUy  evety  gram,  of  my  Kttle  store  of 
money,  and  took  leave  of  jhe  onjy  home  of  mv  own  th..f. 


had  ever 


poasessed,  not  Aout  regret  and  many  fears  and 


^^- 


'  rtti**-***.*"*-"- 


'«w..«Jii*V 


M 


114 


CORALLA. 


sad  forebodings.    I  cautiously  passed  along  the  way  that  I 
thought  most  distant  from  the  convent,  and  at  length 
entered  a  small  village,,  where  I  assumed  as  inuch  as  possible 
an  air  of  indiflference  and  familiarity,  resolving  to  speak  as 
little  as  possible  on  any  subject  that  might  excite  curiosity,, 
and,  as  soon  i&  possible,  to  find  a  boat  and  leave  the  island. 
Being  a  native  of  the  place,  I  had  no  fear  of  attracting 
attention  by  any  peculiarity  of  dialect,  which  in  Italy 
often  distinguishes  the  inhabitants  of  different  parts  of  the 
country,  and  even  those  of  adjoining  districts  and  villages  ; 
and  I  was  fortunately  successful  in  my  plan  ;  for  after  a 
little  conversation  with  a  few  persons,  I  found  a  boat  ready 
to  sail  for  Naples,  and  was  soon  on  board.    The  fishermen, 
at  the  si|^al  of  the  master,  raised  their  sails,  we  had^  a 
favorable  wind,  and  away  we  flew,  over  the  beautiful  Bay 
of  Naples.  Such- boats  I  had  often  admired  from  a  distance, 
a8_they  have  long,  white,  curving  sails  like  birds  :.  but  I  felt 
far  happier  ?it. being  carried  by  one  Of  them  away  from  the 
place  where  I  had  suffered  so  much  and  so  long,  than 
I  had  ever  done  in  allowing  them  pass  atid  repass  the 
island.     *    .  ■  -     "■■-.■.  .    /:.'"         '■'     '"■■,    ' 

As  we  proceeded,  the  city  of  Naples  rose  before  us  ;  and 
I  was  filled,  with  fep,rs  at  the  thought  of  entering  such  a 
great  city  as  a  perfect  stranger.  I  had  heard  many  tales  of 
crimes  committed  there,  and  shrunk  from  approaching  it. 
But  when  I  reflected  that  I  was  now  far  ffom  any  enemies, 
and  could  not  meet  with  worse  treatment  than  I  had 
experienced  in  the  coiivent,  I  felt  more  reconciled  ;  and,  on 
^^^fr-ghoreplanded^  and  waHeed-ttp-fte  fitul  Blree^^ 


;'-'  ''A 


t  J 


CoRAUJi. 

With  affected  indifference,  as  if  I  were  an  inhabitant;  and 
proceeding  to  my  iiome.  -  ' 

I  shall  now  pass  over  a  long  period  of  my  life  with  a  few 
lines.    I  remained  bat  a  short  time  in  Naples,  indeed  I^ 
rather  passed  through  the  city,  having  a  longing  desire  to 
^nd  some  retired  place  in  the  conntry,  as  thd  crowd,  noisQ 
and  confusion  of  such  a  city  appeared  to  me  intolerable. 
This  may  have  been  owing  to  m:^'  habits  of  seclnsion.    I 
took  the  road  to  Capua,  and  walked  alone  along  the  way 
through  several  villages  and  between  open  fields,  where  the 
poor  peasants  were  employed  at  their  labors  among  the 
vineyards,  gardens,  and  flocks  of  sheep,  and  herds  of  cattle. 
I  shall  not  stop  to  speak  of  the  king's  splendid  palace  at 
Caserta,  which  I  passed,  or  its  beautiful  gardens,  which 
extend  for  several  miles.   The  contrast  between  such  magni- 
ficence and  my  own  lonely,  firiendless  and  hopeless  condition 
sadly  impressed  my  heart.    I  walked  on  unnoticed,  and 
unknown,  untU  I  had  passed  by  the  immense  walls  of  white 
marble,  and   the   green   groves,    flower-beds,    fbuntains 
parterr/s,  and  artificial  rivers  and  waterfalls,  which  appear- 
ed beyond  the  garden-fences,  directing  my  steps  towards  the 
hais  before  me,  which  appeared  pleasant  and  retired,  among 
which  I  saw  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  and  long  deserted  city 
of  Capua.    At  the  foot  rfihe  high  gromid  was  the  modern 
«ity  of  the  same  name,  which  I  was  approaching  when  I  was 
accosted  by  a  man,  who  asked  me  several  questions,  and 
then  told  me  to  foUow  hhn,  for  I  was  a  prisoner.    To 
my  dismay  I  fomad  that  I  had  been  suspected,  for  «nm» 


WJMMi  or  othfer,  ag  a  ft^tive  nun;  and  now  was  in  the 


i 


■-*ft.' 


#5 


.  K 


f  "pp^ 


•*U"" 


* 


.-  I 


•  I  '""Hi 


RiLKASE  rRou'  Prison.  '^^L        ^^^^^Wfr- 

power  of  the  very  e%Dnes  from  whom  I  had  sumMsed  my- 
seJf  safe.  As  I  intended  to  speak  only  of  the  convent,  and 
have  already  extended,  my  narrative  to  a  greater*  length 


dismiss  the  remainder  of  \my  long 


".t 


'  than  I  intende 

history  in  a|Hr I^^^Hiif  Was  taken  back  to  NaplWshot 
.'ap  in  a  Di$sq|^l|||ght  before  Jadges.  whom  I  did  not^ow^ 
c#fr|^ii^  with  some  of  the  old  nnns  iSronght  from  the 
^  ^<M)nW?^'l«ho  recbgnized  and  reviled  me,  and  then,  without 
a  friend  or  counsellor,  I  was  condemned  to  imprisonment 
for  ten  years  1    v  - 

The„  next  thing  I  knew,  I  Hwoke,  as  it  were,  in  a  small 
and  solitary  prison,  where,  without  comfort,  friend,  or  hope,  J 
remained  what  seeiiied  like  a^  century.  At  length,  how- 
ever, I  was  released,  and  came  again  to  see  the  clear  light 
of  day,  and  the  faces  of  my  fellow-creatures.  The  crowds  of 
Naples  were  around  me,  my  ears  were  stunned  by  the  con- 
fusion of  the  city,  my  eyes  stared  wildly  'about,  and  it  was 
long  before  I  could  collect  my  bewildered  senses.  I  had 
kept  no  account  of  time,  but  afterwards  learned  that  I  had 
completed  the  term  of  my  sentence—"  ImprisonmeiU  for  ten 
years P\    •:  ._       "       •    ..,:.."        ..•  :-  ■  ^     „     *'/ 

The  first  return  of  real  consdousness  was  caused  by  the 
distrjMjlp  seafi^on  of  extreme  hunger.  I  found  myself 
one  d^near  the  «l^re  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  in  a  spot 
where  fishermen  occasionally  passed!  There  I  sat,  too 
feeble  and  wretch^  to  move,  and  not  knowii^  whsr6  to 
turn,  recalliug  some  confused  recollections  of  my  life,  when 
a  poor  man  approached  me,  and  with  the  first  expressions  of 
JggggPgss  eytfaddressed  to  me,  jnquired  whether  I  wag  fa^ 


■:r^ 


"I  r  ^ 


\: 


• -a- 


i 


w 


/  ' 


I 


/ 


f  < 


CORALLA. 


iir 


want. .  How  to  reply  I  scarce  knew,  so  unaccastomed  Kad 

^  1  been  to  kindne^  and  'rfo. strongly  w&s  I  I'mprelsed  by  a 

V  look  of  compassion  mA  a  word  of  sympathy.     He  soob 

learned  that  I  wm  in  want,  extreme  want.    In  foc^  I  mast 

have  been  near  de*thfro^'starvation  nay  state  of  mind 

,    taving  been  snch,  eT|  since  my  releaai,  as  to  draw  off  my 

thonghts  even  from  M|ger  itself,  and'myjong  habits  in  the 

prison  having  accastomed  mf  t6  depend  entirely  on  my 

•     jailor  for  my  daily  snppliai. 

•  Thfe  good  man  tied  tt|fale,  took  his  twSittle  ehUdren 
■  from  the  baskets  or  pai^  which  hung  from  his. saddle, 
and  then  kindUng  a  fire  of  Iticks,  on  the  beach,  took  several 
little  fish  from  a  ptoftk  wbifl|he  was  carrying  to  Naples  to 
sell,  cleaned  and  cooked4heiin  a  hw  minutes,  and  brbught 
them  to  me  with  a  piece  J,f  ^ii^rse  bread.  He\bade  me  to 
Ae  of  good  cheer,  said  he  woidd  not  leave  tne  to  suffer,  but 
tdce  care  that  I  should  not  want.    My  hopes  began  to  ' 

revive, -i^lt  a  glow  of  gratitude  |B  my  new  friend  which  I 
hatf  never  experi^cfed  before^as  I  for  the  want  of  all 
ocasion  for  it ;  and  I  partook  of  the  food  which  he  had 
km«y  prepared,  with  a  relish  of  the-  highest  kind.    1  gave 
him  ft  ^>rfef  account  of  my  life,  t6  which  he  listened  Mth  an 
exprwsion  of  sincere  sympathy  ;  and  he  then  told  me  his' 
own  irtory  in  few  wor^^;                   .        "          ^ 
:  Hif  name  was  Onofrio  ;4ia^as  a  nativ^  of  T^any  ;  an4 
this  iiamediately  accounted  to  n^e  for  some  i-emarkable  V 
pecrfiadties  which  I  had  noticed  in  his  language.    He  had 
been  for  some  years  ^  fisherman  on  the  shores  of  the'^Bay 
-of.  ^^    "-  *— ^ — — ^ — — —      ^ 


^m^kykm,  haviflg  DM^edTaTpoor  woman  of  that  vidnity; 


v^ 


^^i 


M.    ' 


'fij 


r4.' 


X4 


F'^*. 


^-f 


118 


CORALLA. 


?» 


r^. 


.'v 


who  had  ^ed  some  time  before,  leaving  the  two  little 

children,  whom  he  usaally  took  with  him  when  he  went  to 

,  the  city.    He  told  me  that  if  I  would  accompany  him  and 

take  care  pf  his  little  ones,  to  whom  he  was  affectionately 

devoted,  he  would  provide  for  me,  and  be  my  protector,    I 

accepted  his  kind  invitinibn,   and,  under   his    care,   my 

strength  returned  and  my  health  improved,  and  I  was  soon 

able  to  relieve  him  of  the  cares  of  his  little  family.    The 

^  children  easily  learned  to  Iqve  me,  and  I  began  to  think 

myself  the  happiest  person  I  hiad  ever  known.     Onofrio  was 

poor,  but  industrious  and  economical,  and  always  had  bread 

enough  for  us,  all,  '^iih  a  supply  offish  always  ready,  A  few 

grani  or  even  carliiies  were  always  at  my  service  if  I  needed 

anything  for  the  children  .or.  myself,  for  he  usually  had  a 

S  ■'>,v.  *'  *  ■ 

little  treasure  laid  up,  amountmg  to  sev^r^  pezziduri;  or 
hard  dollars.  s  y        • 

But  a  sad  reverse  one  day  overtook  me.  -I  was  passing 
in  a  street  in  Naples  among  a  number  of  persons,  when  I 
was  rudely  accosted  by  a  rough  man,  wretchedly  clad,  who 
seemed  to  recognize  me.  He  had  a  sinister  expression  of 
countenance  which  was  quite  repulsive,  yet  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  voice  and  aspect  which  seemed  famiUar  to  me. 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?"  said  he,  in  a  rough,  though 
-   suppressed  tone.  • 

In  a  moment  I  shrunk  back,  perceiving  that  he  was 

,  Giporatello.    He  informed  me  that  he  had  undergone  many 

sufferings  since  we  last  met,  that  he  had  been  driven  to 

commit  robbery  by  want,  arrested  and  imprisoned,  and 


.'^ 


Change  of  Habits. 


» 


119 


danger  of  detection  for  other  crimes,  and  especiaUy  feared  to 
be  refiognized  and  punished  for  robbing  the  convent     He 
begged  me  not  to  betray  him,  which  I  solemnly  promised  • 
and  he  then  seemed-  about  to  leave  me,  when  observing  that 
I  was  in  company  with  Onofrio,  he,  wi^  hifi  usual  sagacity 
mimediately  saw  that  he  could  gain  sW  advantage  from' 
'    it.  and  he  asked  for  money.    Onofrio  gave  him  a  Uttle  ;  but 
he  desired  mpre  ;  and,  calling  me  aside,  began,  to  threaten 
that  unless.1  would  give  him  five  pezzi  dun  h^  would  have 
me  arrested  and  imprisoned,  and  accuse  me  of  robbing  the 
convent.    I  did  not  stop  to  tell  him  that  I  had  already 
tinflfered  a  long  and  terrible  punishment  for  that  crime  of  his 
own,  feai'ing  that  he  would  invent  soi&e  worse  way  of 
injuring  me.    I  knew  that,  when  in  real  distress,  he  was 
like  a  mad-man,  and  therefore .  desired  to  pacify  him  by 
snpplying  his  pressing  wants.    Poor  Onofrio,  ol  my  earnest 
request,  gave  him  the  five  dollars,  which  wm  the  whole  cl' 
his  store ;  and  we  were  happUy  rid  of  the  dreadful  Cip6ra- 
tello.   He,  however,  made  his  appearance  some  weeks  after 
when  he  renewed  his  threate,  and  obtained  another  supply 
of  money.    I  then  proposed  to  Onofri^  t6  leave  him  and 
seek  a  subsistence  I  kn^w  not  where,  to  ^vent  his  bein^     ' 
thus  robbed  in  futmre  j.  but  he  would%  no  means  allow  Z 
to  go.  and  adopted  a  roving  life  to  avoid  the  search  of 
CiporateUo.    We  accordingly  abandoned  the  poor,  but  to 
me  pleasant   Uttie  habitation  we  had  occupied  near  the 
shore,  packed  all  the  household  establishment  on  the  back 
of  the  mule,  having  room  enough  for 


'•«i-. 


.ff^iff^^f'. 


In 


<'. 


*      •<  - 


120 


CORALLA. 


onr  side,  daily  moved  from  one  lonely  spot  to  aiiother;  sleep- 
ing  in  the  open  air  in  clear  weather,  which,  in  that  mild 
climate^  is  comfortable  daring  a  large  part  of  the  year,  and 
living  as  before,  on  the  products  of  the  fishery,  procured 

by  Onofrio.  „      '^  -  ^ L     _^  „        1. 

Ah!    How  well  it  might  be  for  many  innocent  and 

lovely  girls,  if  their  guardians,  or  at  leas^  their  mothers,  but 

knew  as  well  as  I  do  the  immense  difference  there  is  between 

•thei^llfy  of  character,  the  sincerity  of  affection,  the  truth, 


aor.^|ind  real  nobility  which  are  found  in  the  family 
(^1^,  even  of  the  poorest  and  humblest  ranks  of  society, 
and  the  false,  hypocritical,  hard-headed,  and  cruel  tyrants 
who  rule  in  those  misnamed  abddes  of  religion,— convents! 

Is  there  not  some  way  in  which  my  sorrowful  story  may 
become  known  ?  are  there  not /some  means  by  which  at  least 
one  innojcent  young  girl  may  be  saved  from  the  snare^  into 
which  so  many  fall  ?  Ah  1  I  jiave  not  told  the  worst.  The 
crimes,  the  shamefull  crimes  of  the  priests,  modesty  forbids 
me  to  tell.  I  would,^o  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  incur 
any  amount  of  trial  and  persecutidn,  to  rescue  one  victim 
from  my  ancient  enemies.  They  are  the  enemies  of  the 
human  race— the  deadly  enemies  of  woman  1  The  Bishops, 
Priests,  Superiors  and  other  tyrants  like  them  establish 
convents  for  .themselves,  and  then  they  rule,  oppfess  and 
destrqy.  0!i  I  if  but  one  of  my  own  sex  could  be  saved 
from  a  fate  like  the  fate  of  thousands,  I  should  feel  some 
reason  to  rejoice  in  the  name  and  the  story  of  Coralla. 


iJfS^^Js'flJ^TW?. 


The  Enraged  .  Superior. 


^    f'.'^-- 


121 


CHAP^'ER   V. 

^^m'T*  "^  '*""-"?•  ^'X'"*'-"-^---'»-«oa-n.. Stolen 
Por^lt-More  Per.«>atlons^H„ul,  ue.^^  ^^.^^  VWt^Reflned  Cruelty- 

iThe  Bitterness  of  Death  Antlo^»tett-TheNuBinendB.  • 

y^WILL  now  resume  the  thread  of  my  own  narrative.  I 
±  repUed  to  my  hypocritical  and  tyrannical  Superior  with 
a  great  deal  of  moderation,  though  it  was  not  what  my  heart 
suggested.  My  answer  threw  her  into  a  state  of  violent 
agitation ;  she  ^med  pale ;  she  wished  to  speak,  but  her 
bps  trembled,  and  she  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  me 
I  walked  at  a  quick  pace  backward  and  forward  across  my 
cell,  and  she  cried  out : 

"  O  Heaven,  what  will  our  sisters  say  ?  O,  look  down 
upon  her  with  an  eye  of  pity.    Sister .» 

"Madam?" 

"Is  this,  then,  the  part  which  you  are  to  act?c  yI^ 
mean  to  disgrace  us,  to  render  us  the  subject  of  comm^ 
^,  and  to  become^tiie  obj«.t  of  it  ypurself-to  ruin  your- 

"  I  mean  to  go  out  of  this  place." 

"But  if  it  ia  only  the  house  with  ,h.vi.  . ,  ^|, 


122 


An   Exciting  Scenb. 


"It  is  the  house,  it  is  my  condition,  it  is  the  conyent;  I 
will  not  be  confined  either  liere  or  elsewhere." 

"  Child,  yon  are  possessed  with  the  devil ;  it  is  he  who 
ajgitates  yon,  who  makes  you  speak  so,  who  distracts  you  ; 
it  is  an  absolute  truth  ;  see  in  what  a  state  you  are  1" 

In  fact,  I  viewed  myself,  and  I  saw^that  my  robe  was  all 
in  disorder,  that  my  lieckerchief  was  almost  turned  round, 
and  that  my  veil  |iad  fallen  back  upon  my  shoulders.  My 
patience  was  quite  wearied  out  with  the  talk  of  this  wicked 
Superior,  Ivho  fiad  always  spoken  to  me  in  a  mild,  deceitful 
tone,  and  I  said  to  her  in  indignation,  "  No,  Madam,  no  ;  I 
wish  no  more  of  this  cRrthing,  I'll  have  no  more  of  it."  In 
the  meanwhile  I  attempted  tq  adjust  my  veil ;  but  from  the 
tremor  of  my  hands,  the  more  I  attempted  to  put  it  right, 
the  worse  I  made  it,  till  at  last,  out  of  all  patience,  I  seized 
it  with  violence,  tore  it  away,  and  threw  it  upon  the  ground, 
remaining  in  the  presence  of  my  Superior,  with  all  my  hair 
dishevelled.  In  doubt  whether  she  ought  to  stay,  she 
walked  about,  saying : 

"  0  Heaven,  she  is  possessed  ;  it  is  an  absolute  faqt,  she 
is  possessed  1"  •        - 

And  the  hypocrite,  at  the  same- time,  crossed  herself  with 
her  rosary.  It  was  not  long  before  I  came  to  myself ;  t 
felt  the  indecency  of  my  situation,  and  the  imprudence  of 
my  discourse ;  I  too^  np  my  veil  and  put  it  on ;  then 
.turning  to  her,  I  said,  "Madam,  I  ap  neither  mad  nor 
possessed.  I  am  ashamed  of  my  violence  and  I  ask  your 
pardoti;   but  judge  from  this  circumstance  how  ill  the 


religions  state  becomes  me,  %nd  how  mocb  I  am  justified  to 


Jv- 


Thoughts   of  Suicide,  \       /    X23 

withdraw.from  it  if  I  can."    Without  attendipg  to  me  ahe 
repeated : 

"  What  wm  the  world  say  ?  What  will  oar  Bisterssay  V' 
"Madam,"  said  I  to  her,  "do  you  wish  to  avoid  an 
•exposure?  there  is  one  way  of  doing  it.  I  only  ask  my 
liberty.  I  do  not  desire  you  to  op^  the  gates  to  me,  but 
take  care^nly  that  to  day,  to-morr^,^  the  day  after, 
they  may  be  ill  guarded,  and  ^o  not  discover  my  escape  tUl 
as  late  as  possible." 

"  Wretch  I  hojF^afe  you  make  such  a  proposal  as  this  to 
me?"  fJ  y 

'  "It  is  advife  which  a  wise  |pd  good  Superior  ought  to 
foUow,  ^0th  reVct  to  those  for  whom  a  convent  is  a  prison 
and  it  is  one  to  me  ;  if  the  laws  to  which  I  have  appealed 
disappoint  my;  expectation,  and  if,  urged  by  the  pangs  of 
deq,air  with  which  i  am  already  but  too  well  acquainted- 
there  are  windows  in  the  house^there  are  walls  before  me 
—I  ha^w  a  robe  which  I  can  tear  in  pieces-!  have  hands 
which  I  can  use."  •  ^^ 

"Stop,  wretch  I   you  make  me  tiemble,  what!   you 
can'^ .'^  .    •,  . 

"I  can,  oi  faUure  of  the  means  of  puttmg  a  sudden  end 
to  the  evUs  of  life,  refuse  nomrishment ;  we  may  eat  and 
drmk  or  not,  as  we  please.  If  it  should  happen  after  what 
I  have  told -you,  that  I  should  have  the  courage,  and  you 
know  in  this  I  am  not  deficient,  and  that  it  requires  more 
r  sometimes  to  support  life  than  to  encounter  death  j  tell  me 
conceiving  yourself  at  %-  ' 


of  Heaven,"wfaefeer- 


#. 


■if 

\ 


yott  or  I  would  appear  in  its  flight  the  most  guilty?  Madam, 


i. 


i,  ■;-. , 


124 


I   Plead  for  Liberty. 


,  I  desire  nothvig  to  be  returned,  I  never  will/require  anything 
\ftrom  the  house,  only  spare  me  a  criitte  and  spare  ypnrself 
the  cause  of  long  remorse  ;  let  us  concert  together." 

,'*^o  you  believe,  Sister ,  that  I  can  fail  in  my  first 

'   duty,  that  I  can  be  a  party  to  crime,  that  I  can  take  a 
share  msacrilege  ?" 

"  It  is  I,  Madamj  who  am  guilty  of  sacrilege  every  day, 
in  profaning  by  contempt  the  sacred  habit  which  I  wear. 
Take  Jt  fifom  me,  I  am  unworthy  of  it ;  send  me  out  into 
the  village  in  qi^est  of  the  rags  wBteJi  cover  the  poorest 
person ;  let  the  ^oot  of  thevcloister  be  opened  for  my 
escape."*  \  \      / 

"  And  where  will  you  go  in  ordei*  to  be  better  ?" 

" I  know  not  where  I  shall ^,  but  evil, is  confined  to 
those  situations  in  which  Heaven  does  not  intend  J^t  we 
should  live ;  and  it  never  intended  that  I  should  live  in  this 
convenl,"  \ 

"  You  have  nothing." 

"  True,  but  poverty  is  not  what  I  fear  most." 

*'  Dread  the  evil  to  which  it  leads." 
.  "The  past 4s  my  guarantee  for  the  tvAvae  ;  had  I  wished 
to  listen  to"  criminal  solicitations,  I  should  now  have  been  at 
liberty.^  But  if  I  am  to  get  out  of  this  hpuse,  it  shall  be 
either  with  your  consent  or  by  ithe  anthorit;^  of  the  laws. 
Take  your  choice."     -     -  V         , 

.  This  conversation  lasted  for  a  cobsidentbte  ihiM*  Wfien 
I  recollected  what  had  passed,  I  blushed  at  the  imprudent 
ftnd  ridifitilonH  thinga  XJbaA  done,flMjMBd ;  bnt  it  WflJ^^SfflL 


late.    The  Superior  was  still  repeating  her  exdamationa  t 


^'^^^'■- 


r" 


"^  ■•'  •«'*  ii^-t  -i-' 


y 


' '  't 


Vkni  Creator. 


125 


"  What  will  the  worfd  Bay  ?  what  wDl  our  sisters  say  ?» 
When  the  clock,  which  summoned  us  to  service,  reminded 
us  to  separate.    She  said  to  me  at  parting :  ^^    ^ 

"Sister ,  you  are  going  to  church  ;  pray  Heaven  to 

sanctify  yon,  and  to  give  you  the  spirii,  of  yonr  condition ; 
ask  your  conscience,  and  believe  its  dicUtes  ;  it  is  impossi- 
ble but  it  must  reproach  you.  I.  dispense  with  your 
singing."  .  V 

We  went  down  aUnost  together.^  Service  began.  When 
it  was  finished,  all  the  sisters  were  about  to  separate  ;  she 
struck  the  breviary  with  her  handed  stopped  them.   . 

"My  sisters,"  said  she  to  them,  "I  desire  that  you  wiU 
throw  yourselves  at  the  foot  of  the  altar,  and  implore  the 
mercy  of  Heaven  for  a  nun  whom  it  has  forsaken,  who  has 
lost  the  spirit  of  devotion,  all  taste  for  the  exercise  of 
religion,  and  who*  is  on  the  point  of  committing  an  action, 
sacrilegious  in  the  sight  of  Heavfei,  and  disgraceful  in  the 
eyes  of  man." 

I  cannot  paint  to  you  the  general  surprise  ;  in  an  instant 
every  one,  without  stirring,  looked  round  at  the  countenances 
of  her  companions,  expecting  to  see  the  guilty  person, 
betrayed  by  her  emBarrassment.  They  all  prostrated  them- 
selves, and  prayed  in  silence.  After. a  very  considerable 
space  of  time,  the  Superior  thundered,  in  a  bass  vdce,  the 
"  Veni  Creator  » in  which  she  was  followed  by  the  rest  in 
the  same  tone.  After  a  second  interval  of  silence,  she 
knocked  upon  her  desk,  and  they  all  vent  out.  > ' 

Yob  ihay  eamly  Httppog»4brmagmaffr  whteh  wer^i  created 
i^  the  oommnnityi^    '         . 


>J 


*     ■  T 


^^^■I5P^^^ 


' « /  '  ~{ "  '  ^ 


/••«, 


m 


The  Protjsctob. 
What  kas  she  done?    What  d 


"Who  IS  this? 
•  "intend  to  do  ?"  •  > 

These  doabts  were  not  of  long  daration.  My  application 
wa9  beginning  to  make  a  noise  in  the  world.  I  receired 
— v-^  -  endless  visitors,  some  bringing  me  reproaches,  others  advice  ; 
I  had  the  approbation  of  some  and  the  censare  of  others. 
I  had  only  one  way  of  justifying  myself  m  the  view  of  all, 
by  informing  them  of  the  treatment  I  had  received  ;  and 
lyoa  may  conceive  what  management  was  necessary  upon 
this  point.    There  were  only  a  few  persons,  who  coptinned 

sincerely  attached  to  me  beside  Mr. =,  to  whom  I  had 

committed  my  case,  and  to  whom  I  had  entirely  disclosed 
my  sentiments.    When  I  was  afraid  of  the  torments  with 
which  I  was  menaced,  and  when  'the  dnngeon  mto  which  I 
had  been  once  dragged  represented  ail  its  horrors  to  my 
imagination  (for  I  always  knew  the  farf  of  the  nuns),  I 
.  commnnieated  my  fears  to  Mir.  —. — ,  who  said  to  me  f 
-    "  It  is  impossible  for  you  to  avoid  every  species  of  punish- 
ment, and  you  must  lay  youv  account  with  them  }  all  that ' 
you  can  do  is  to  arm  yourse^  /;^th  patience,  and  to  support/ 
fhem  in  the  hopes  of  their  termination.    As  for  the  dungeon^ 
If      /  I  promise  you:  that  you  shall  never  letum  thither  •  I  will* 

take  care  of  that."  , 

In  fact,  he  brought  an  order  to  the  Superior  in  a  few- 
days  to  bring  me  forth  as  often  as  she  should  be  required. 
7.-    Next  momilig  after  service  I  was  recommended  to  the 
public  prayers,  qf  the  community;  they  prayed  in  silence, 
tod  repeated  the  saye  hymn  in  a -low  voice  that  they  had 
\^,    chtoted  the  preceding  night.    The  same  ceremony  was  p6^ 


•<»<lt «  "1*"* 


J'.' 


Alive  in  a  Ooftin. 


121 


formed  on  the  third  day,  with  this  difference,  that  they 
ordered  me  to  place  myself  in  the  middle  of  the  choir,  while 
they  recited  the  prayers  for  the  dying,  and  the  litanies.  The 
fourth  day  there  occurred  a  piece  of  mummery .  which 
strongly  remarked  the  capricious  character  of  the  Superior.  — 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  service,  they  made  me  lie  down  in 
cofi&n,  which  was  set  in  the  middle  of  the  choir.  She  set 
candlesticks  by  my  side,  with  a  pot  of  holy  water ;'  they 
covered  me  with  a  napkin,  and  recited  the  service  of  the 
dead ;  after  which  every  nun  in  passing  threw  some  holy 
water  upon  me,  saying,  at  the  same  time,  "Mequiescat  in 
pace."  It  is  necessary  to  understand  the  language  of  the 
convent,  in  order  fully  to  comprehend  the  sort^of  menace 
contained  in  these  last  words.  Two  of  the  nuns  took  off 
the  napkin,  put  out  the  candles,  and  left  me  drenched  to 
the  skin  with  the  water  which  they  had  maliciously  sprinkled 
upon  m'e.  My  clothes  dried  upon  me,  as  I  had  not  any 
others  to  change  them.  This  mortification  was  followed  by 
another.  The  community  was  assembled  ;  they  considered 
me  as  a  reprobate.  My  conduct  was  treated  as  apostasy, 
and  all  the  nuns  were  prohibited  on  jpaai  of  d^obedience  to 
.speak  to  me^  to  assist  me,' to  come  near  me,  or  even  to 
touch  the  things  I  used.  These  orders  were  rigorously 
executed.  Our  passages  were  so  narrow  that  in  some 
places  two  persons  could  scarcely  pass  abreast.  If  I  met 
any  of  the  nuns,  they  either  returned,  or  stood  close  with  _. 
their  backs  to  the  wall,  holding  their  veils  and  their  clothes 
for  fear  they  should  touch  mine.    If  they  had  anything  to 


j21 


/-■.<:.■ 


»v'.. 


128 


Semi-Starvatiok. 


I  f 


hold  of  it  with  a  cloth ;  if  they  had  anywbg  to  give  me, 

they  threw  it  at  me.     If  Jbey  were  anfmnnate  enough 

to  toach  me,  they  beliered  themseltes  poJlated,  and  they 

went  to  mnfesB,  and  to  get  abBolatioa^.frbm  the  Superior. 

It  has  been  said  that  flattery  is  mean  and  contemptible  ]  it 

is  also  extremely  cruel  and  very  ingenious  when  it  proposer 

".*?:   to  please  by  the  mortifications  which  it  invents.    I  was 

'^.    deprived  of  all  "^mploym^ent  as  unwo^rthy.    Xt\  church  they 

r  |5  left  a  pew  empty  on"Sch  side  of  thfit  which  I  iccupifed.    I 

•  Vsat  at  table  alone  in  the  hall.    Tney  would  not  serve  me  : 

I  was  under  the  necessity  6^  going' to  the  kitchen  to  ask  for 

my  allowance ;  the  ^rst  time  I  m  4,  Sister  Clpok  called 

out.to  me :      ft 


"Do  not  come  hej^."    I /bieyed  her/ ^' Wh^t  do  you 
^wantr       '     '.    /  ^      '%:''' 
"JFood.'^  ' 


to  live." 


♦  "rood  I  you  do  not  deserve 
„  Sometimes  I  returned,  and  spent  the  day  without  ilourish- 
ment ;  sometimes  I  urged  m)  demand,  till  at  last  they 
-  would  place  upon  the  threshold  meat  which  it  wouloi  have 
been  shameful  to  have  offered  to  a  dog ;, I  wept  while  I 
took  it  up  and  went  away.  If  at  any  time  I  happenAi  to. 
arrive  last  at  the  door  of  the  choir,  I  found  it  shut ;  I  Mnelt 
down  on  my  knees,  and  there  waited  the  conclusion  o^lthe 
service.  My  strength  declining  from  the  little  nourishment 
I  received,  from  the  bad  quality  of  what  I  partook,  and 
more,  from  the  difficidty  with  which  I  endured  so  malty 
reiterated  marks  of  inhumanity,  I  felt  that  if  I  persisted 
c»uuot'ni{^  wtMtooii  compiamt,^^  snoaiQ  1 


^ 


'■if 


I 


Cruel  Pebsccutions. 


f  . 


129 


brought  to  a  conclnsion.  I  resolved,  therefore;  to  speak  to 
the  Superior.  Although  Jialf  dead  with  terror,  I  went  and 
knocked  at  her  door.  She  opened  it,  and  seeing  mo,  shrunk 
back  several  steps,  saying,  "  Apostate  begone."  I  withdrew. 
I  returned  once  more. ^~         ,^  -      :-.  -.     -'—---  -  — 

"  What  do  yoii  want  r  / 

"  Since  neither  God  nor  man  has  condemned  me  to  die.  I 
request,  Madam^  that  yon  would  give  orders  that  I  should 
be  supplied  with  the  meaQs  of  supporting  life." 

"Life  I"  sid4  she,  repeating  the  obfij^ration  of  the  cook, 
"  are  you  worthV  to  enjoy  that  blessing"  • 

"Heaven  alone  knows  that,  bnt  I  warn  you,  if  nourish- 
ment is  denied  me,  I  shall  be  compelled  to  carry  my  com* 
plaints  to  those  who  have  taken  me  nnder  their  protection. 
Here*  I  remain  only  as  a  deposit,  till  my  fortune  and  my 
state  be  dtedided." '  • 

"Begone,**  said  she  ;  "dp  not  pollute  me, with  the  sight 
of  you ;  I  shall  attend  to  your  request." 

I  went  away  and  she  shut  the  dooi*  after  me  with  violence. 
She  probably  gave  ordersi  bat  I  was  treated  with  hardly 
any  ,inbre  attention.  They  deemed  it  a  merit  to  disobey 
her;  they  continued  'to  send  me  the  coarsest  victuals,  and 
they  would  even  render  them  more  disgusting  by  mixing 
them  with  ashes,  and  eveixspticies  of  filth. 

Such  was  the  life  I  led^while  my  slut  was  pending.    I 
was  not  ent^ly  discharged  from  appearing  in  the  ^arlor^ 
they  could  noVdeprive  me  of  the  liberty  of  conferring  with 
my  judges  and  ^th  my  advocate,  although  the  latter  was 


often  obliged  to 


threats  to  obtain  an  interview  witJi 
6* 


X  ■ 


;j      ■. 


Mi 


,Mf^  -.^H"'^'^. 


IBO 


PsssEcimoaia. 


>'       ♦/ 


me.    Even  then!  lirasjottended  by  one  of  the  sbters,  who 
complained  if  I  Rpoke  low,  raged  if  I  stayed  too  long,  inter-).' 
rnpted,  contradicted  ipe,  gave  me  the  lie,  repeated  to  the    ' 
Saperior  my  conversation,  altered  its  import,  misrepresented 

its  tendency,  and,  perhaps,  imputed  to.  me  language  which  _:__ 

I  had  never  employed.  They  even  went  so  far  as  to  rob  ^\ 
me ;  to  strip  me  of  everything!  possessed  ;  to  carry  off  my' 
chairs,  my  coverlids^  and  my  quilt.  I  received  no  more 
clean  linen,  my  clothes  were  in  tatters,  and  1  was  almost 
destitute  of  shoes  and  stockings.  I  had  the  utmost  difficulty 
to  procure  a  jittle  water,  and  often  have  been  obliged  \o 
bring  it  from  thS  well  which  I  have  already  mentioned  | 
they  broke  my  uten8ilB,'.tiIl  at  Ii^t  I  was  .obliged  to  drink 

uii|he  water  I  had  drawn,  without  the  possibility  of  conveying 
i^to  my  apartment.    If  I  passed  under  the  windows,^  I  was 

'  forced  to  run  or  expose  myself  to  the  insults  with  which  I 
was  assailed  from  the  cells.  Some  of  the  ^ters  have  even 
q>it  in  my  face.  I  became  careless  of  my  person  to  a  degree . 
that  rendered  me  hideous.  As  they  were  apprehendve  of 
the  complaints  I  might  make  to  our  directors,  J^as  pro- 
hibited from  confession.  One  great  festival  day,  I  believe 
it  was  that  of  the.  Ascension,  they  contrived  to  derange  the 
lock  of  my  door.    I  could  not  appear  at  mass,  and  perhaps  ' 

.  should  have  been  absent  from  all  the  other  services,  had  I    ;^: 
not  received  a  visit  from  Mr.  — 7-,  whom  they  told  at  first  / 
that  they  knew  not  what  was  become  of  me,  that  I  wa»iio\     / 
longer  fit  to  be  seen,  and  that  I  performed  no  action  which      ^ 
Christianity  required. '  After  a  great  ^al  of  trouble,  however. 


"remoye3Hie  lot^;: 


the  dooF  of  the  cnoir,'" 


\ 


J 


/. 


SuPKnSTITlONS. 


181 


I  • ,  r 


jtl 


\<rliiQh  I  foQDd  shot,  as  nsnally  happened  when  I  did  not      '  ^ 
Ajrr^^Te  among^  the  first.     I  then  laid  down  npon  the  groQQ"!  '  ^" 

^^th  my  hfead  and  back  leamtfg  against  one  of  the  walls,  my 
anias  acyo§s  my  breast,  wliile  the  rest  of  my  body  extended, 
closed  np  the  passage.    When  the  service  ended  and  thfL 
nviQs  presented  themselves  in  order  to  retire,  the  firiat' 
filjioppcid  short,,  the  rest  followed  immediately  hehln^  her. 
he  Soperior- suspected  the  matter,  and  said  :  :,,  . 

"  Walk  over  her,  it  is  nothing  bat  a  deAd  body." 
Some  of  them<  obeyed  and  ti'o^  upon  me,  others  were  less 

inhuman  :  but  none  of  them' ventured  to  offer,  their  hand  to  ^,..^ 

'       .       .        ■  ■  ■  ^   i 

^y  raise  me  up,    During  my  absence,  they  had  cjirried  off  from 
my  cell  my  little  prayer  desk,  the  portrait  of  our  foundi'ess,  -^j 

the  rest  of  the  pious  images,  and  the  crucifix  ;  I  had  nothing 
left,  but  th6t  which  I  carried  at  my  rosary,  and  tiii^,  too,  I 
'  was  not  long^  ijlowed  to  preserve.  I  then  lived  between 
four  bare  walls',  in  a  roon^without  a  door  or  without  a  chair 
to  sit  down  upon,'  standing,  or  stretched^pit  a  paUet  of  straw,  ^ 
deprived  of  the  most  necessary  ntensi^,  and  therefore  com^^ 
pelled  to  go  oat  by  nigh^,  while  next  day  I  was  accused  of , 
distorfoing  the  repose  of  the  house,  of  wandering  ab^t,  and 
reproached  vnth  having  lost  my  understanding.    As  my  cell  ^ 

was  now  unlocked,  they  would  enter  tumultuously  during 
the  night' ;  they  shouted,  displaced  my  bed,  broke  windows,     ^      ' 
and  did  everything  which  Could  inspif||me  with  affright. 
The  noise  seemed  to  ixioant  up,  and  then  to  descetad,  audi;    i^ 
and  those  who  were  not  inthe  plot  said  dl|k  strange  things.  4  .' 
passed  in  my  apartment ;  that they  had  hffra  dismal  sounds;     , 


(I 


~j~tBsrrB5ia  esHvcrerwith  ghostr 


!^^ 


^^^ 


/.> 


132 


.•\, 


A.  W^k^Nixo  TO  Parents  * 


and  wicked  spirit9  ;  that  I  must  needs  have  made  a  covenant 
with  Satan,  and  that  it  was  high  time  to  leai^^the  part  of 
the  house  where  I  lived.  There  are  in  every  community  a 
number  of  weak  heads ;  they  even  compdfse  a  majority. 
They  believed  every  word  they  heard,  were  afraid  to  pass 
my  door ;  their  perturbed  imaginations  re^sented  my  form 
to  them  as  hideous  and  frightful;  when  they  chanced  to 
meet  pe  they  made  the  sign  of  cross,  and  tetired  with  the 
utmost  speed  crying,  "  AVfay  from  me,  Satan  1  Oh,  Heaven, 
come  to  my  aid  1"  One  of  the  youngest  happening  to  be  at 
the  bottom  of  the  passage,  I  was  advancing  to  her,  and  there 
being  no  possibility  of  avoiding  me,  she  was  seized  with  the 
utmost  fright ;  fir^t  she  turned  to  the  wall,  muttering  in  a 
tremulous  tone,  "Oh,  Heaven,  Heaven  1  Jesus  1  Mary  1" 
I  continued  to  advance.  When  she  perceived  that  I  was  ■ 
near  her,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  springing 
forward,  precipitated  herself  into  my  arms,  exclaiming,  "  I 
am  lost  1  Sister ,  Saint  -;; — ,  do  not  hurt  me  1  have  pity 
upon  me  I"  And  with  these  words,  she  dropped  half  dead* 
upon  the  floor.  Her  cries  assembled  a  number  of  the  sisters, 
she  was  carried  away,  and  it  is  impossible  for  me  jto  describe 
how  this  accident  was  misrepresented.  Were  I  to  pursue* 
the  detail  of  my  persecutions,  my  story  ~%ould  never  end. 
Ah !  yon  wbo  have  children  of  your  owif  IjBara  firom  my 
fate  the  sufiGerings  yon  prepare  for  them  if  yon  permit  them 
to  embrace  the  life  of  >&  nun.  How  unjust,  how  inconsistent 
is  the  conduct  of  people  in  the  world  1  A  ^rl  is  allowed  to 
dispose  of  her  liberty  at  an  age  when  she  would  not  be 
allowed  to  dispose  of  a  dollarr^  Put  your  daiq;hter^ig-^ 


^''      ,     -<-fr 


iF 


^Exorcising  a  .  Demon. 


133 


death  rather  than  imprison  her  in  a  cloister  against  her 
inclmations,  put  her  to  death  without  hesitation.  How 
often  have  I  wished  that  my  mother  had  s);ifled  me  at  my 
birth.  Conld  you  .seriously  believe  that  I  was  deprived  of 
my  breviary,  and  forbidden  to  pray  to  Heaven  ?  You  may 
well  imagine  that  I  did  riot  obey  this  injunction.  Alas  1  it 
was  the  only  consolation  I  possessed-    I  would  raise  my 

.  hands  to  Heaven — I  breached  the  a<;cents  of  suffering,  and  I 
ventured  to  hope  that  they  were  heard  by  the  only  being 
who  witnessed  the  whole  extent  of  my  misery.  They 
listened  at  my  door,  and  one  day  when  I  was  praying  in 
the  anguish  of  my  hea/tt,  and  imploring  Divine  assistance, 
they  said  to  me,  "You  implore  the  Deity  in  vain;  die, 
desperate  wretch,  and  be  lost  for  ever."  Others  added,* 
''  Amen  ;  such  be  the  lot  of  the  apostate ;  Amen,  such  be  - 
hers  1"  '  " 

But  the  following  is  an  incident  that  you  will  deen^  more 
extraordinary  than  any  other.  I  cannot  determine  whether 
it  was  the  effect  of  malice  or  of  illusion.  The  curcumstance, 
hi^wever,  was  this  :— Although  no  part  of  my  conduct  dis- 
covered a  disordered  mind,  much  less  a  mind  possessed  by 

*the  infernal  spirit,  they  held  i^  deliberation  whether  it  was 
not  necessary  to  exorcise  me,  and  by  a  plurality  of  voices 
they  concluded  that  I  had  renounced  my  baptism,  that  I 
was  possessed  by  the  demon,  and  that  his  influence  estranged 

•  me  froift  divine  servkjoB.    Another  added,  t>at  at  certain- 
prayers  I  gnashed  my  teeth,  shuddered  in  the  church,  and 
twisted  my  arms  during  the  elevation  of  the  Holy  Sacrar 


"■■  , 

~  \ 

1 

1 

'  -  :■  .. 

' ' .  ff 

''SSifo'i 


/ 


■■■W 


184 


Gross.  Misbepresentations. 


longer  carried  my  rosary  (which  by  the  way  they  had 
stolen),  and  nsed  blasphemies  too  dreadfal  to  b|e  repeated. 
All  agreed  that  there  was  something  unnatoral  about  me, 

of  which  the must  be  apprised.    This  was  accordingly 

done.  ll.-_::"- /  ■ ^ 1__^..:  , _ '.  .__..:...L  ,, „t 

The was  Mr. ,*a  man  of  agQ  and  experience, 

blunt  in  his  character,  but  just  and  enlightened.  He,  was 
informed  in  full  detail  of  the  disorder  which  prevailed  in  the 
house  ;  certain  it  is,  that  it  was  not  inconsiderable,  and.  that 
if  the  cause  could  be  imputed  to  me,  it  was  of  a  nature 
perfectly  innocent  You  may  easily  imagine  that,  in  the 
memorial  which  was  laid  before  him,  they  did  not  omit  my 
nocturnal  perambulations,  my  i^sence  from  the  choir,  the 
tumults,  which  happened  in  my  apartment,  thobjstrange  sights 
whicnsome  had'seen,  the  eztraordmary  sounds  which  others 
had  heard,  my  aversion  to  spiritual  exercises,  and  the 
blasphemies  of  which  I  was  guUty.  , 

The  adventure  of  the  young  nu  they  represented  in  any 
light  wMch  their  imagination  chose  to  enpply.  The  accusa- 
tions were  so  strong  and  so  numerous  that  with  all  his  good 
sense,  Mr.  — — 'could  not  help,  in  some  measure,  considering 
theiii  in  a  serious  pobt  of  view,  and  believing  that  they* 
contained  a  great  deal  of  truth.  The  affair -appeared  to 
him  of  HO  much  importance  as  to  require  a  personal  examina- 
tion.* He  announced  his  iiitelhded  visit,  andactually  arrived, 
accompanied  by  two  young  ecclesiastics,  who  had  been 
appointed  to  attend  him,  and  who  relieved  him  by  their 
assistance  in  the  discharge  of  the  laborioos'part  of  the  duties 


/ 


TeTSa  to  foIilT 


*     / 


.*■' 


■Wfi-fa'7,     . 


A  Nocturnal  Visitor. 


135 


A  few  days  before  his  arrival  I  heard  ^person  softly 

enter  my  chamber  ht  midnight.     I  remained  silent  while  I 
was  SRdressed  in  a  low  and  tremulous  voice  :  ^* 

"  Sister  Saint  — — ,  are  you  asleep  ?" 
_   "  No.    Who  is  there  ?"     -„^  :     ^-    i_       .  :  i. 

"  A  friend  of  yours,  who  is  overwhelmed  with  terror,  and 
who  exposes  herself  to  ruin  to  communicate  to  you  a  piece 
of  intelligence  from  whicl^  perhaps  you  can  derive  some 
advantage.    Attend ;  to-moi*row  or  next  day  a  visit  from 

the is  expected  ;  you  are  to  be  accused  ;  prepare  for 

your  defence.    Adieu,  have  courage,  and  Heaven  be  with 
youl" 

Saying  this,  she  glided  away  with  the  swiftness  of  a 
shadow.  You^see,  there  are  everywhere,  even  in  "  religious" 
honses,  hearts  of  a  compassionate  disposition  which  no 
circumstances  can  harden.  All  this  while  my  suit  was 
prosecuted  with  vigor.  Crowds  of  people  of  both  sexes, 
and  aU  conditions,  interested  themselves  in  my  favor.'  I 

was  not  permitted  to  converse  with  Mr. .    He  was 

told  that  I  was  sick.  He  suspected  that  they  meant  to 
deceive  him,  and  trembled  lest  they  had  thrown  me  into  the 
dungeon.  He  applied  to  the  Archbishop,  but  he  did.  not 
deign  to  give  him  a  hearing  ;  he  had  been  prepossessed 
with  the  idea  that  I  was  m£d,  or  something  wor^e.  He 
had  recourse  to  ^he  interposition  of  the  civil  coni't,.  and 
insisted  upon  the  execution  of  the  order  intimated  to  the* 
Superior  to  present  me,  dead  or  alive,  when  she  was  sum- 
moned to  that  effect.    I  availed  myself  of  the  advice  of  my 


friemd  to  implixre  liMTBnly  assistance,,  to  collect  my  sj^irits, 


_^,«_..^. 


X 


136 


The  Red-Hot  Tongs. 


V 


V 


_.  and  to  prepare  for  my  defence.    Of  Heaven  I  only  entreated 

the  happiness  of  being  interrogated  and  heard  #ifhTrmpaf- 

tiality  ;  J  obtained  this  request ;  but  I  am  now  tol  inform 

you  at  what  price.    If: it  was/ my  interest  to  appear\to  the 

V  Bishop  innocent  and  rational ;  it  was  of  no  less  impokance 

to  the  Superior  that  I  should  be  considered  vicious,  guilty, 

distracted,  possessed  by  the  infernal  spirit.    Accordingly, 

in  proportion  as  I  redoubled  the  fervor  of  prayers  and  the 

exercises  of  devotion,  they  redoubled  the  mischievous  tricks 

with  which  I  was  toi;mented.  .  I  received  no  nourishment 

but  what  was  barely  necessary  to  prevent  my  dying  of 

hunger ;  I  was  exhausted  with  mortifications  ;  terrors  of 

every  kind  multiplied  around  me ;  of  sleep  I  was  utterly 

deprived.    They  put  in  practjce  everything  which  could 

destroy  my  health  and  derange  my  mind.    Judge  of  the 

-    rest  from  the  following  instance :   One  day,  when  I  was 

going  from  my  cell  to  church  or  elsewhere,  I  saw  a  pair  of 

toUgs  upon  the  grdnnd  across  the  passage.    I  stoop  to  pick 

them  up,  and  place  them  in  such  a  manner  that  they  might 

bd  easily  found  by  the  person  who  mislaid -them.    The  light 

prevented  me  from  observing  that  they  were  almost  red  ;  I 

^  took  hold  of  them,  but  in  dropping  them  again,  they  carried 

along  with  them  all  the  skin  of  the  inside  of  the  hand.    In 

the  places  through  which  I  had  to  pass,  they  continued  to 

throw  in  mj  way  something  or  other  ^ther  to  catch  my 

"feet  <^r  to  starike  my  head.    A  hnnilred  times  have  I  been 

wounded  severely  ;  I  wonder  how  I  escaped  .wtth  my  life. 

I  was  not  allowed  anxJigbt,  m(\  yjMLQbligedjtolpgoec 


trembling  with  my  hands  before  me.*  They  used  to  scatter 


■■    4 


w 


■T,*jn,*.*  -Jjsi^;^' 


iW 


Jr- 


The  Infernal  Spirit. 


.131 


broken  glass  under  my  feet.    I  was  fnlly  determined  to 
disclose  all  these  circumstances,  and  I  kept  my  wprd.       -^ 

Ah !  what  malicious  creatures  are  these  recluse  women; 
who  know  well  that  they  second  the  hatred  of  their  Superiolr, 
and  who  imagine  that  they  serve  Heaven  by  tormenting 
you  to  death !  The  time  had  now  arrived  when  the  visit 
of  the  Archbishop  was  to  take  place,  and  when  my  suit  was  - 
tp  be  termmated.      -^  v  ^ 

In  reality,  this  was  the  most  terrible  moment  of  my  whole 
life ;  for  consider,  that  I  w&s  absolutely  ignorant  of  tbe- 
colors  under  which  I  had  been  represented  J^  this  eccle^ 
siastic  ;  and  that  he  came  with  the  curiosity  of  seeing  a  girl 
possessed  of  the  infernal  spirit,  or  counterfeiting  that  situa- 
tion. M7  persecutors  imagined  that  nothing  ^ut  a  violent 
flight  could  display  me  under  this  appe&rance,  and  they^ 
adopted  the  method  related  in  the  following  chapter  to 


\/ 


•<*     , 


effect  thipir  purpose. 


/ 


N 


/'• 


y 


■ '% 


r 


\ 


.^|gr 


";vM* 


,    138 


The  Preparation. 


^  CHAPTER   VI.       ; 

■  ■     •  f  ■  ■"      '   • 

The  Ordeal— The  Victory— The  Archbtahop  and  the  Saperlor—Cpnvent^  above  the 
Law*— Their  Characteristics— My  DesptJr—Ppnances— The  "Scourge  "  AppUed— > 
I  Walk  on  Broken  Glass—"  A  Hinisteriug  Angel  ''—Sister  tTrsula— Peath  in  Life— 
Another  Angel  in  Heaven— 'A  New  Prison— My  Departure— A  Daguerreotype  of 
my  New  Superior. 

UPON  the  day  the  visit  was  expected,  the  Superior  entered   . 
the  room  very  early  in  the  morning,  accompanied  by 
three  sisters,  one  carrying  a  vessel  of  holy  water,  the  other 
a  crocifix,  the  third  a  bundle  of  cords.    The  Superior,  said 
to  me,  in  a  harsh  and  threatening  tone  : 

"Rise."  ,^  ,      ••  ;        ■     " 

I  rose.  ,     •     . 

"Kneel  down'upon  your  knees  and  recommend  yourself 

to  Heaven  J" 

"Madam,"  said  I,  "bef«nre  I  obey  your  command,  may  t 
ask  you  what  is  to  be  my  fate  ?  what  are  the  sufferings  to 
which  you  have  doomed  me?  and  what  requests  ought -1 
address  to  Heaven  ?"  .  ,'     »  • 

"A  cold  perspiration  overspread  ipy^body,  J  trembled,  I 
felt  my  knees  sink  under  me  ;  I  gaz^d  with  fright  upon  her . 
three  companions.    They  were  standing  in  a  row  with 


-J 


gloomy,  ill-bodibg  countenances,  their  lips  closed  and  their 


■«•,.<■  '<ff'''Atl 


-J 


A  Severe  Ordeal. 


139 


eyes  sliiit.  Terror  had  discoimected  every  word  of  .the 
question  I  asked  ;  from  the  silence  they  preserved  I  imagined 
that  I  had  not  been  undef  stood.  Again  I  began  to  repeat 
the  last  words  of  the  question,  for  I  had  not  conragc  to  go 
over  the  whole ;  in  a  feeble  and  half-extingaished  voice  I 
then  said,  "  VS^at  petition  mast  I  address  to  Heavto  1"   ' 

They  replied,  "  Implore  its  forgiveness  for  all  the  sins  you 
have  committed  in  the  course  of  your  life,  in  the  same 
manner  as  if  you  were  going  to  appear  for  judgment." 

At  these  words  I  believed  that  they  had  determined  upon 
my  destruction.  I  had  beard,  indeed,  that  similar  practices 
sometimes  occurred  in  the  convents  of  certain  religious 
,  orders  of  the  male  sex :  that  they  tried,  condemned  to 
death,  and  consigned  to^  punishment.  1  never  had  con- 
ceived, howevcir,  that  this  inhuman  jurisdiction  was  exercised 
in  any  convent  of  women  ;  but  there  were  many  other  things 
which  never  entered  my  ii;nagination,  that  were  there  prac 
tised.  At  the  idea  of  immediate  death  I  advanced  to  the 
Superior  in  a  suppliant  posture,  but  my  body  refused  its 
service,  and  I  sank  backwards,  I  lost  all  sense  and  feeling. 
I  only  heard  around  me  a  burst  of  confused  and  distant 
voices,  either  oT  persons  speaking,  or  arising  from  the 
ringing  in  my  ears,  p  am  ignorant  how  long  I  remained 
in  this  situation,'  but  I  was  recovered  from  it  by  a  sudden 
sensation  of  cold,  which  occasioned  a  slight  convulsion,  and 
drew  froni  me  a  deep  sigh.  I  was  immersed  in  water, 
which  streamed  from  my  clothes  tb  the  ground  ;  it  was  th 
contents  of  a  large  vessel  of  holy  water,  which  they  hai 


I 


I 

-  -- r 

I 

I  ! 


»  ■ 

\  ■■ 

^■.>»- 

w  .■- 

i     . 

140 

TbI:  ^Mock  Doom 

*- 

with  my 

head  lea 

iiit^  ag^t  the  wall, 

■  ■f<f»-'. 


\: 


my  eyes  almost  s^t,  ^nd  gdite  closed.  I  endeavored  to  open 
them,  and  to  look  aioBjeots,  but  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  had 
been  enveloped  ia^  thick  atmosphere,  through  which  I  dis- 
covered nothing  bat  a  floating  robe,  of  which  I  attempted 
to  lay  hold,  bat  withoat  saccess.  My  extreme  weakness 
sabsided  by  degrees  ;  I  raised  myself  np,  Ifaning  my  bac^ 
against  the  wall,  my  two  hands  immJersed  in  the  water,  my  ' 
head  redining  on  my  breast.  In  this  sitaation  I  uttered  a' 
deep-dfawn  note  of  complaint,  in  faltering  accents,  rendered 
inarticulate  by  the  pressure  underVhich  I  straggled.  These 
women 'gazed- on  me  with  an  expression  of  coantenance  so 
obdurate,  as  left  me  no  coarage  to  solicit  their  compassion. 
The  Superior  said,  "Place  her  upright."  They  took  meby 
the  arms,  and  raised  me  ap.  The  Superior  added,  "  Since 
she  will  ^ot  recommend  herself  to  Heaven,  so  much  the 
worse  for  her  ;  yon  know  what  you  have  to  do,  complete 
your  task."  1  imagined  that  the  cords  they  had  brought 
with  them  w^re  intended  to  strangle  me  ;  I  looked  at  them 
whilst  thQ  tears  started  into  my  eyes.  I  craved  permi&ion 
to  kiss  the  crucifix,  but  my  request  was  refused.  I  asked 
leave  to  kiss  the  cordei,  which  were  immediately  presented  ; 
I  leaned  forward,  took  the  Superior's  scapulary,  kissed  it, 
and  said,  "  Oh  !  Heaven,  have  compassion  upon  me  !  Dear 
sisters  I  endeavor  to  spare  unnecessary  pain."  I  then  pre- 
sented my  neck.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  describe  the 
state  into  which  I  was  sunk,  or  in  what  manner  they  now 
treated  me.    I  only  remember  their  binding^mv  hands  with 


?i 


v\ 


■  *"tf  /•"•i;,*' 


The  Consolation   of  Christianity. 


141 


recOTered  the  nse  of  my  senses,  I  foand  myself  seated  upon 
a  pallet  of  straw,  which  formed  my  bed,  my  hanfls  tied 
behind. my  back,  ana  a  large  iron  cross  was  upon  my  knees. 

It  wa^at  this  time  that  I  experienced  the  saperiority  of 
Christianity.  In  the  situation  in  which  F  was  placed,  what 
consolation  coald  I  have  derived  from  the  contemplation  of 
a  fpirtnnate  legislator,  covered  with  glory?  I  set  Him 
before  me  who  was,  without  offence,  crowned  with  thorns. 
His  hands  and  feet  pierced  with  nails,  and  expiring  in 
agonies  ;  I  then  would  say  to  myself,  "  Behold  the  situation 
of  my  Saviour  !  and  dare  I  complain  ?"  I  dwelt  upon  this 
idea,  and  felt  consolation  springing  up  again  in  my  heart. 
I  knew  the  vanity  of  life,  and  thought  myself  too  happy  to 
loi^il,  before  I  had  time  to  multiply  my  transgressions,  yet 
I  reckmied  my  years,  and  I  found  that  I  was  hardlytwenty. 
I  was  too  much  weakened,  too  much  depreseed,  to  allow  my 
mind  to  rise  superior  to  the  terrors  of  death.  In  perfect 
health,  I  believe  that  I  should  have  been  able  to  take  my 
resolintion  with  greater  fortitude. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Superior  and  her  satellites  returned, 
and  found  ifle  possessed  of  greater  presence  of  mind  than 
they  expected,  and  would  have  wished.  They  raised  me 
up,  and  pat  on  my  veil ;  two>of  them  supported  me  under 
the  arms,  a  third  pushed  me  from  behii^,  and  the  Superior 
ordered  me  to  walk.  I  went,  without  knowing  whither  I 
was-  going ;  under  the  apprehension,  however,  that  I  was 
about  to  be  punished,  I  said,  "  Oh,  Heaven  have  pity  upon 
me  I  support  me  I  do  not  forsake  me  1     Pardon  me,  if  I 


- 

T 

1 

1, 

¥x 

i 
r 

1;., 

i 

!i 

jjv 

'^^; 

1 

i 

t' 

1- 

k 


I. 


have  offended  thee  1" 


"'s^m. 


142 


A  FoKCED  Cbuemony. 


I  entered  the  church.    The had  celebrated  mass, 

the  community  was  assembled.     I  forgoi;  to  tellyou,  that  "     -> 
when  I  had  got  the  length  of  the  church  door,  the  three 

nuns  who  had  the  charge  of  me,  seized  me  fast,  pushed  me     «  "^ 
with  violence,  and  seemed  to  struggle  with  me  ;  those  who 
held  my  arms,  dragging  me  on,  while  the  rest,  who  were* 
behind,  kept  me  back,  as  if  I  had  been  resisting,  and  show-  / 
ing  signs  of  repugnance  to  enter  the  church,  which  was  by 
no  4neans  the  case.    They  conductrBd  me  to  the  steps  of  the 
aitar  ;  I  had  scarcely  ascended  thiairwhen  they  pulled  me 
down  upon  my  knees,  as  if  I  had  refused  to  kneel ;  they 
held  me,  as  if  I  had  an  inte^on  of  making  my  escape. 
They  chanted  the  '^Verti  Creator,",  laid  out  the  Holy  Sacra- 
ment, and  pronounced  the  blessing;    At  that  part  o\  the 
blessing,  where  they  testify  veneration  by%  inclinatron  of 
the  body,  those  who  held  my  arms,  affected  to  use  compul-  , 

sion  in  making  me  bow,  and  the  rest  leaned  their  hands 
upon  my  shoulders.  I  was  sensible  of  all  these  various 
movements,  but  it  was  impossible  for  me"  to  devise  their 

object ;  soon  after,  hQwever,  everything  was  developed. 

After  th^  blessing,  the divested  himself  of  his  chasu-  ^ 

ble,  put  on  his  albe  and  his  stole,  and  advanced,  towards 
the  steps  of  the  altar,  where  I  was  upon  my  knees.  He 
was  between  two  ecclesiastics,  with  his  back  turned  upon 
the  altar,  and  his  face  directed  to  me.    He  approached'me 

and  said,  "Sister ,  rise."    The  sisters  who  held  me, 

suddenly  raised  me  up,  others  came  romid  me,  and  seized.- 

me  by  the  middle,  as  if  they  were  afraid  lest  I.  should  make 
my  escape.    He  added,  "Let  her  be  untied.'^    Thev  did    '  . 


r 


\ 


■'■w-i'V      "^ 


'      f 


The  CoMPAssioNiiE  Am;.WNTa.  -143 

aot  obejr,  pretendiag  to  be  "warsx^he  danger  of  ,etli„„ 

,      ~  •'  ^«-^y:   Bat  I  have  toM  ,Ctat  this  Z  IS 

m...  .„d  he  repeated,  in  a  firm  and  .evere  tone  "Letter 

•  Ubert,,  wien  I  ottered  a  woefn,,  piereing  er,,  .Wclad 
"""  '""  "* '  "^  '"«  kypooritioal  „„„,  Z  were  ab™ 
me,  ra„  away  as  if  affrighted.    He  reo„,.r«,  h^^elf  •  the 

,  less,  and  he  said  to  me,  "What  ails  vou?"     t  n.„^ 

.p,.bt,h„.edhi..,t.oar.s,tCLL^^^^^^^^^^ 
they  had  bound  me,  had  edtered  almost  entirely  i„t„  th» 
<iesh,and  the  bio<Ki  which  had  been  prevented  fto" 
lafng,  ga,e  »hem  a  pnrple  i„e.    He  conceived  that  my"y 
arose  from  the  sadden  affeetion  oceasioked  by  thlbW 
resummg  its  course ;  he-aaid,  "let  her  veil  Jt  L  off  ' 
The^had  stitched  it  io  several  places,  without  my  Uw 
edge   which  rendered  this  a  more  difflcdt  and  ri^l  ^ 
cperafon  than  it  would  otherwise:  have  been.    C  ^ 

j--^»<eyo,se^:rs:::-^ 

were  se^ibl.  that  my  expression,  were  o^diss^M^  tZ 
T»^f  these  ,..U«es  made  .  strong  imprell^f  g 
»?oa  tie  young  attendants  of  the  Archbishop ,  as  for  hta 
ftp  wasent^Iy  ignorant  of  such  sentiments  -LiZ  ^ 
^  Of  Httl,  .uscepUl^.^^  J^  'C^CZ 
the  miBforfniiB  ill  H*  u..L  iP^r  ..  —  "^"ej^flo  nave 


the  misforf  one  to  Be  bo: 


t<^  pi^tice^tue,  without  e^ 


/ 


144 


A  Cruel  Tbick. 


„;  .  ^l 


« 


riencing  dny  pleasure  la  it ;  thoy  do  good  from  a  principle 
of  fitness,  as  they  call  it.    He  took  th'e  sleeve  of  his  stole, 

and  putting  it  upon  my  head,  he  said  to  me,  *'  Sister , 

do  you  believe  in  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit  ?"    I 
replied,  "I  do."  ," 

:      "  Do  you  renounce  Sataa  and  his  works  ?"  ^ 

Instead  of  answering,  I  moved  suddenly  forward,  and 
cried  out,  and  the  stole  fell  off  my  head.  The  Archbishop, 
was  troubled ;  bis  companions  turned  pale  ;  some  of  the 
sisters  ran  away,  othersSof  them,  who  were  in  their  stalls, 
left  them  in  the  greatest  confusion.  He  made  a  signal  to 
them  to  compose  themselves j  he  looked  earnestly  at  me, 
expecting  something  extraordinary  to  take  plade.  He  took 
courage  on  my  saying  to  him,  "Sir,  it  is  nothing  ;  'it  was 
one  of  these  nuns  who  pricked  me  with  something  sharp  f 
and  raising  my  eyes  and  my  hands  to  heMtn,  while  I  shed 
a  flood  of  tears,  I  added,  "  It  is  because  they  hurt  me  at 
'~l  the  very  moment  when  you  asked  me  if  I  renounced  Satan, 
and  his  works,  their  reason  for  which  I  well  know.*'  They ' 
all  protested,  m  the  voice  of  the  Superior,  that  they  had  . 
not  touched  me.  .The  Archbishop  replaced  his  stole  on  my 
head,  and  the  nuns  were  again  drawing  near,  but  he  made 
a  signal  to  them  to  keep  at  a  distance,  and  repeated  the 
question  to  me,  if  I  renounced  Satan  and  his  works,  to 
which  I  replied -with  firomess,  "I  renounce  them."  He 
made  them  bring  a  figure  of  Christ,  which  he  presented  t«. 
me  to  kiss  ;  I  kissed  it  "uppn  the  feet,  upon  the  hands,  and  ^ 
the  wound  in  the  side.  He  commanded  mi'io  worship  ]i 
with  a  load  Yoiee ;  I  fell  upon  the  earth  and  npoo  my 


« 


,  The  Act  of  Faith.  ^45 

^^Tmees  I  8aid.  "My  Saviour,  thoa  who  didst  die  upon  th'o 
cross  for  my  sins,  and  those  of  the  liuman  race,  I  adore 
thee ;  apply  to  me  the  merits  of  those  torments  which  thou 

hast  endured  ;  touch  me  with  a  drop  of  that  precious  blood 
.which  thoi*  jiast  shed,  and  J  shall  be  purifled.    Pardon  me, 
as  I  pardon  mjr  enemies.  '  He  then  said  to  me,  "Make  at.' 
act  of  faith."    And  I  made  it.     "  Make  a  deed  of  lovo." 
And  I  made  it.     "  Make  a  deed  of  hope."    And  I  made  it 
"Make  a -deeci^ of  charity."    And  I  made  it.    I  do  not 
recollect  the  terms  in  which  they  were  conceived,  but  I 
thmlf  they  must  have  been  paCfietic,  fpr  I  drew  sighs  from 
some  of  tbe  nuns  ;  and  two  of  tha  ecclesiastics  shed  teaM** 
The  Archbishop  asked  me,  with  astonishment,  where  I  gSt^ 
the  prayers  which  I  had  just  now  recited^    I  said  ''They 
came  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  and  f  take  heLven  to 
witness,  that  they  are  my  thoughts  and  sentiments.    I  am 
a  Christian,  I  am  innocent ;  if  I  .have  been  guUty  of  some 
faults,  the  Deity  only  knows  them,  and  none,  but  he  has  a 
right  to  ask  for  an  account  of  them,  or  to  punish  them  » 
When  I  uttered  these  words,,  helSSa  terrible  look  upon 
the  Superior.    The  rest  of  the  ceremoS^being  finished  jn 
which  things  the  most  sacred  were  profaned,  all  the  mm 
retired,  except  the  Superior  and  the  young  ecclesiastics, 
^.e  Archbishop  sat  down,  and  taking  out  a  memorial  which 
they  had  presented  to  him,  against  me,  he  read  it  aloud 
^nd  questioned  mfe  upon  the  articles  which  it  ccmtained. 
Why,"  said  he  tame,  "don't  you  confess  ?»        \  -  ^  ' 
"Because  they  will  not  permit  mo." 
"  Why  doaH  yon  allend  a^hg;  BacramlitB  V 


V! 


i 


4': 

'■7% 


# 


) 


/ 


?-^^, 


•    A, 


U^ 


/i 


\ 
^•1 


^1 


An  EccLESiAsn<^  Exauikation. 


V   "  Because  they  will  not  perilfit  me." 

"  Why  d<Hi't  yoa  assist  at  mass  and  at  diriae  service  ?" 

"  Because  they  will  not  permit  me."   ' '  - 

Here  the  Superior  wished.to  speak,  but  he  said  to  her,  in 
the  same  tone,  "  Be  silent,  madam.  Why  do  yoa  go  out 
of  your  ceU  at  m'ght  ?"   *    ' 

"Because  they  have  deprived  me  of  water,  and  every- 
necessary  accommodation."  ;  , 

"  How  comes  there  to  be  a  noise  in  your  bed-room  and  in 
your  cell?" 

"  Because  they  will  not  allow  me  to  takerepose." 
^  Here  the  Superior  attempted  a  second  time  to  speak,  and 
he  said  to  her,  "Madam,  I  have  told  you  to  h6  silent ;  you 
will  have  an  opportunity  i]pf  answering  when  I  interrogate 
you,  How  happened  it  that  they  were  oblfged  to  extricate 
a  nun  from  your  hands,  whom  they  found  thrown  down  in 
the  passage?"  '^-:Z~  '  ■' '  f^ 

"It  is  in  consequence  of  the  honor  of  me  with  which 
they  had  inspired  her."  ' . 

"Is  she  your  friend ?"  ^ 

"No,  sir."  ;  .;  ' 

"  Were  you  never  in  her  cell  ?% 
,     ";i^ver."      '    '  * 

*'"  Did  you  never  do  anything  improper  either  to  her  or 
toothers?^' 

"Never." 

"  Why  did  they  bind  you  ?" 

"Idpnotiknow." 


1 


Praying  without  a   "Breviary." 


Ut 


V  . 


"  Because  I  have  broken  the  lock/' 
"  Why. did  you  b|.eak  ||^  lock?'' ^, 
"To  get  out,  in  ordeFto  assist  at  service  on  the  Ascen- 
sion-day."        !'  I  * 
"  You  were  at  church  then  on  that  day  1"        £_     J\^ 


'Yes,  sir;"  "^    A' 

The  Superior  said,.  "Sir,  it  is  notjtrae,  aU  the  com- 
munityf'-^i — - 

I  interrupted  her,  and  said,  "  Will  testify  that  the  door  of 
the  choir  was  shut ;  that  they  found  me  prostrate  at  this 
dtoor,  and  that  you  ordered  them  to  trample  on  me,  which 
some  of  them  did ;  but  I  forgive  them  and  you,  madam,  for 
hiving^  ordered  them  ;  I  am  not  come  to  accuse  any  person, 
but  to  defend  myself."      .  , 

"Whyhaveyotfneither  a  rosary  nor  a  crucifix?" 

"  Because  they  have  taken  them  from  me." 

"  Where  is  your  breviary  ?" 

"  They  have  tien  that  also."       ' 

"  How  can  you  pray  then  ?" 

"I  pray  from  the  heart,  though «they  prohibit  me  from 
doing  it."  *  7^ 

"Who  is  it  that  issued  the  prohibition?  Madam"— 
here  the  Superior  was  still  going  to  speak—"  Madam," 
said  he ;  "is  it  true  or  false  that  you  have  pijohiblted  her 
frompraymg?    Say  yes  or  no." 

"I  believed,  and  I  had  reason  to  believe" # 

"  This  is  not  to  the  purpose ;  have  you  prohibited  her 
from  praying ;  yes  or  no  ?** 


m.  - 


m^ 


148 


SeVKBE    Ql?JESTI0NIN6. 


m  { 


She  was  about  to  continue,  when  the  Atdhbiahop  resumed, 
"But,  sister,  how  come  your  feet  to  be  naked  ?" 
^'Because  they  do  not  furnish  me  with  either  stockings  or 
shoes."         _    - 

"  Why  are  your  linen  and  your  clothes  so  old  and  du-ty  ?" 
"  Because  they  have  refused  me  linen  for  more  than  three 
months,  and  I  am  obliged  to  sleep  in  my  clothes." 
**  Why  do  you  sleep  in  your^clothes  ?" 

•  •    "Because  I  have  neither  cumins,  mattress,  blankets, 

sheets,  nor  night-dress."     jjJBL     ■ 
"Why  have  you  not  thfffl^' 
"  Because  they  have  taken  them  from  me." 
"Do  you  get  food?"     •  , 

"I  ask  for  it."      > 
"  You  do  not  get  it,  then  ?» 
,1  was  silent;  and  her  added,  \     '     r 

"  It  is  incredible  that  they  can  have  used  you  with  so 

much  severity  without  your  having  committed  some  fault  to 

merit  it." 

"  My  fault  is  having  no  call  to  the  religious  state,  and 
recalling  my  vows,  which  I  never  made  voluntarily." 

"It  is  for  the  laws  to  decide  upon  this  affair  ;  and  how- 
ever they  may  pronounce  upon  it,  it  is  incumbent  on  you  in 
the  meantime  to  discljarge  the  duties  of  the  religious 
life."  i  ,       v  - 

"  No  person,  sir,  is  more  punctual  than  I  am."         ^, 
"  you  must  share  the  lot  of  all  your  companions." 
"ThatisaUIask.\ 


=je 


asfc 


you  iio  uomphiliit  to  msiripinsra^^wr 


y 


-^t-^ 


J      -r. 


rf#      .        " 


'^. 


Incredible  Sufferings. 


149 


y 


\ 


C 


"No,  sir  y  I  have  told  you  thaf  I  am  not  come  here  as  an 
accuser,  but  for  the  pujpose  of  defending  myself." 
"  Go  away."  — / 

."Where  shall  I  go,  sir  ?»       • 

"To  your  cell"  -• 

>     I  took  a  few  steps,  then  "r^rned  and  prostrated  myself  at 
the  feet  of  the  Superior,  and  of  the  Ardhbishop.     »  ^ 

"Well,"  said  he,  "  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

I  answered,  "  You  see,"  showing  him,  at  the  same  time, 
m^  head  bruised,  my  feet  bloody,  my  arms  livid  and  withouf ' 
flesh,  my  clothes  dirty  and  torn.    I, think  I  hear  those  who 
read  these  memoirs  say,  "-Horrors  so  multiplied,  so  varied, 
so  continued,  a  series  of  atrocities  so  monstrous  engendered 
in  the  hearts  of  irans  I    It  is  not  very  probable."    I  grant 
it.    But  it  is  true  ;  and  may  Heaven  judge  me  with  the 
utmost  rigor  if  I  have  sufifeced  calumny  to  darken  one  of 
my  lines  with  its  slightest  shade.    Though  I  have  long 
experienced  how  much  the  aversion  of  a  Superior  can  stimur 
late  her  natural  perversity,  particularly  when  it  is  such  as  to 
make  a  merit  of  crime,  resentment  shall  never  prevent  me 
from  being  just.    Providence,  whose  views  are  unknown  to 
us,  has  been  pleased  to  heap  upon  a  single  unfortunate  indi- 
vidual, all  the  cruelties  divided  in  its  inscrutable  decrees 
among  an  infinite  multitude  who  have  preceded,  and  who ' 
shall  succeed  her  in  the  cloister.    I  have  suffered  much  ;  but  \ 
the  lot  of  my  persecutors  seems  still  more  deplorable  than  - 
mine^    I  would  rather  die  than  give  up  my  situation  on  I 
condition  of  accepting  theirs.    My  pains  will  be  brought  tft_ 


a  conclosion ;  the  remembrance,  shame,  and  remorse  of  crime 


.t!±.- 


^ 


Ti- 


r- 


l&O 


"IDbb  Supbrior  Oomfrokted. 


i 


-■•^ 


IKv  > 


^ 


will  Ibe  with  them  till  their  latest  hour.  In  the  meantime, 
my  situation  is  deplorable  ;  ^ife  is  committed  to^me.as  a 
charge.  I  am  a.woman,  and  subject  to  the  weakness  that  is 
common  to  my  fi:es,  Heav<en  may  abandon  met  I  feel  that 
I  have  neither  strength  nor  courage  long  to  bear  np  under 
what  I  have  hitherto  supported.    *  j^;,,'     p    ' 

"Betird/^  said  the  Archbishop:^  Oijie  of  the^celesiastics 

presented  his  hand'  to  raise  me  up ;  &ad  the  Archbishop 

,  continued,  "I  have  heard 'you ;  I  am.  now  about  tP  hear-' 

your  Superior  ;  and  I  wiljl  not  leave  this  place  till  order  is 

re-established."  a*  ->  .  . 

'-I  withdrew.    I  fouiid  the  rest  of  the  house  in  alarm. .  All 
the  nuns  were  af  ,the  ddors  of  th^ir  cells  conves^sing  tibross- 
the  passage.    As  soon  aa  I.  appei^^red,  they  retired,  a^  their  . 
doors,  which  they  had  shut  with  yioleilce,  one  aft0r  the  * 
other,  resounded  through  the  mahsion.    I^ntered  my  &eU; 
dropped-  upon'  m-j  knees  against  the  walj,  and  prayed.  HeaTjCn 
to  consider  t|ie  moderation  ^th  which  I  had  spokA'to  the 
Archbish(^p,  and  to  impress  his  miad  with  a  con^(^tioii  oF  my 
innocence,  and  of  the  truth.   :  ,  ,.  /  "•    >•   .  <    • 

"'twas  engage^  in  prayer  whed  the  Archbishop,  his^Wo 
companions,  and  the  Superior  entered  my  Cell.  I  havQ 
mentioned  that  I  had  neith^  prayer-desk,  chairs,  cnrtaiiis,^\ 
mattress,  sheet's,  utensils,  lock  to -my  door,  and  hardly  a* 
single  whole  pane  of  glass  in  my  windows.  I  rose,  and  the 
Archbishop,  stopping  short  and  turning  to  the  Superior,  ^ixMpt'^ 
eyes  full  of  indignation,  said :—» \  -  •■  "^V' 

"  Well,  now,  madam  ?" 


^      / 


a(. 


nV 


"BEe  replied,  "  I  was  igod^t  of  this/^ 


1 


fr.  . 


■Tl»*~»- 


.  5.; 


'¥*»  .  .  . 


> 


-^ 


'A         •    The,  Indjgnant  Abchbishop.'  •       1 

■>:'^--.V'.^-,-. ■-'■■:    -'A       '    ■i- 

"  You  were' not  ignoraati  of  it  1  it  is  false :  have  you 
passed  a  singre  day  without  vising  this  aj^artment  t  and  jAo 
you  not  desqend  to  your  own  cHamber  after  you  have  b^^en  ^ 
here?    Sister,  speak  ;  was  not  madam,  the  Superior,  liere 


?f 


A, 


1: 


* 


y- 


\/\  made  no  answer,  he  did  not  lirge  ine  ;  but  the  'young 
ecdesiastic8,'with  their  heads  'reclined,  fmd  their  eyes  fixed  .  ^  > 

Vapon  tfa0  grqind,  dificovered  their  surprise  an^  distress. 
They  all  went  out  together,  and  I  heard  the  Archbishop  say 
to  the  Superior  in  the  passage  :-*  ^^     ^ 

"You  are  hnworthy  of  the  office  which  you  fill— you  '\^  ' 

,  ought  .to  be  ideposed.^    All  this  disorder  must  jbe  repaired^ 
before  I  quit  this,  house.     "This  is  horrible^-Ckristians, 
indeed  I  .  Nuns  I  huqian  beings  I    It  is  horrible  IJ'  •   • 

"After  this  I  heard  no  more  of  the  subject ;  but  Jt  was 

•si-  ,  .'         '  >  ,  ■■■■'■ 

.  snppliei^  with  linen  aud  other  articles  of  dress  ;  linth  cur- 
tauis,  sheets,  blankets,  furniture';  my  breviary,  books  of 
devotion,  i;osary,  and  crucifix  'werp  restored  j  my  windows 

\ '  \trere  repaired  ;  in  short;  I  redeiv6d  everything  necessary  for  . 
my  accommodation  like  other  nuns.  J[  was  again  admitted  to  ip 
the  parlor,  but  only  when  my  btisiness  required.  My  petition- 
met  with  little  success.    M published  his  fi^st  memorial, 

Whicli  excited  little  interest.    Jt  contained  too  much  wit, . 
too  little  of  the  pathetic,  and  scarcely  any  argument.    Yet 

.    the  fault  must  not  altogether  be  charged  to' this  able  lawyer. ' 
^tequired  that  he  should  forbear  to  scandalize  the  religious  .  _ 

"  order,  and  especially  the  house  in  which  I  lived.  In  my 
favor  I  had  only  the  first  prbtesjafcion  X  had  made,  a  solemn 


Ja 

'  *'  ■. 

'  *.' 

'    "'     .' : 

■ '.  ■    V 

*  ■ 'v'  . 

^^''  >* 

'      J. 

■t 


V    \ 


^*.- 


152 


Are  CoNTENts  Essential? 


renewed  siace  that  period.  When  such  narrow  limits  are 
assigned  to  a  defence  against  those  who  assume  the  utmost 
latitude  of  attack,  who  trample,  without  distinction,  upon 
what  is  just  and  what  is  unjust,  who  are  deterred  by  no 
blush  of  shame  in  the  imputations  which  they  charge,  and 
t^e  calumny  which  they  invent,  it  is  difficult  to  come  off 
victorious  in  the  contest,  especially  before  courts  where 
habits  of  business,  and  the  irksomeness  which  practice  is 
apt  to  produce,  almost  always  preclude  a  scrupulous  exami- 
nation,  even  in  matters  of  the  highest  importance,  where 
disputes  likd  mine,  too,  are  always  regarded  with  an, 
unfavorable  eye  by  the  politician,  who  dreads  that,  upon  the 
success  of  one  nun  reclaiming  against  her  vows,  an  infinite 
number  of  others  might  be  induced  tp  prosecute  at  similar 
measure.  <Tj)hey  are  conscious  of  a  secret  feelmg,  that  if  the 
prison  doors  were  allowed  to  be  thrown  open  to  restore  an 
unfortunate 'inhabitant  to  liberty,  the  crii^wd  would  be  stimu- 
lated by  the  precedent  to  attempt  to  burst  them  asunder  by 
force.  The  prevailing  policy  is  to  discourage  sunitar  f>ro- 
ceedings,  and. by  the  difficulty  of  a  change  in  our  situation, 
to  induce  us  to^  be  resigned  to  our  fate.  It  appears  to  me, 
however,  that  in  a  well-regulated  state,  a  course  directly  the 
Reverse  ought  to  be  followed  ;  the  religious  life  ought  to  be 
rendered  difficult  to  enter,  and  easy  to  abandon.  And  why 
ought  not  this  case  to  be  placed  upo9  the  same  footing  with 
so  many  others,  wherd  the  smallest  defect  of  formality  inva-. 
lidates  the  proceedings,  though  in  other  respects  just  ?  Are 
convents  then  so  essential  to  the  constitution  of  a  state? 


■■*S: 


_/" 


I 


"Did  Ohrist  institute  the  orders  o£  monks  and  nuns  ?    Is  it 


nfjf  vfif^yi^wi-f*"^-"^ 


The  Unnatdralness  of  ConVknt  Life.         153 

absolutely  impossible  for  the  church  to  dispense  with  these 
appendages?  What  aeed  has  the  bridegroom  of  so  many 
ftfolish  virgins,  and  human  species  of  so  many  victims  ?  Will 
the  necessity  never  be  felt  of  narrowing  the  mouth  of,  these 
abysses  into  which  futuaS  races  of  mankind  are  about  to 

;     plunge  and  be  destroyed  T    Are  all  the  hackneyed  rounds  of 
derotion  performed  within  their  walls  Urortha  single  farthing 
which  pity  bestows  upon  the  poor?    Does  the  Deity  who 
created  man  a  social  being  approve  his  seclusion  ?    Oan  He,  " 
who  formed  him  frail  and  inconstant,  authorize  the  temerity 

^^^\m  vows  ?  Can  thooe  vows  which  outrage  the  general 
propensity  of  nature  be  ever  well  observed,  except  by  a  few 
ill-constructed .  beings,  in  whom  the  germs  of  passion  are 
injured,  and  who  properly  should  be  referred  to  the  class  of 
monsters,  if  our  knowledge  permitted  us  to  discern  with 
equal  facility  the  internal  structure  oif  man,  as  to  perceive 
his  outward  formf  Are  all  these  gloomy  ceremonies  that 
are  observed  on  the  taking  of  the  habit,  and  at  the  tiirfg  of 

.  profession,  when  a  man  or  woman  is  devoted  to  the  monastic 
life  and  to  misery — ^have  they  the  power  of  snspendmg  the 
aniinal  funct^okd?  On  the  contrary,  do  they  not  awi^e, 
amid  silence,  constraint  and  sloth,  with  a  violence  unknown 
to  those  who  live  in  the  worlds  whose  attention  is  varied  and 
occupied  by  the  number  of  objects  which  occur  ?  Where 
it  that  we  behold  the  imagination  haunted  by  impure  phaA- 

~  toms  which  pursue  and  agitate  the  mind?  Where  is  it  that 
we  discover  that  profound  discontent,  that  pallid  look,  that 
meagre  countenance,  thoy>  sympton^i  of  wasting,  declining^ 

roans, 


nature  ?    Where  do  yon  observe  nights  consumed  in 


fc 


.   /■ 


154 


£SPI0NAG|!. 


days  spent  in  melancholy  for  which  no  caiise  can  be  assigned, 
followed  by  tears  for  jxrhich  no  reason  can  ba  found  ?  Where 
does  it  occur  that  nature,  outraged  by  a  «>n^traint  for  which 
she  is 'not  formed,  breaks  down  eVery  obstade  by  which  she 
is  opposed,  aqd  throws  the  animal  economy  into  &  disorder 
for  which  no  remedy  can  be  found  ?    In,  what  place  hare 
peevis|mess  and  discontent  erased  every  social  quality  7    In 
.what  society  is  it  that  there  eidsts  none  of  the  endearing 
relations  of  father,  brother,  sister,  parent,  friend?    In  whiit 
situation  is  it  that  man,  consid^rifig  himself  only  a  b6ing 
that  appears  for  a  momen^.«lia  passes  on,  treats  the  'sweet- 
est ties  by  which  mortals  are  united  as  a  trayelle^r  views  the 
objects  that  fall  in  his  way— without   interest,  without 
attachinent  ?  Where  is  the  reg:ion  which  hatred,  and  spleen, 
and  vapors  inhabit  ?    Where  do  you  meet  with  uiimosity 
that  is  never  extinguished  ?    Wiiere  do  the  passions  ^rood 
in  silence  ?    Where  do  you  place  the  abode  of  cruelty  and 
of  curiosity  7    Where,  but  in  the  mysterious,  seclusion  of  the 
convent?"  ,,  , 

'''  It  is  a  rule  in  the  convent  that  yon  can  neither  write  nor' 
receive  letters  without  the  Superior's  permission,  and  those 
you  write,  as  well  as  those  yon  receive,  are  submitted  to  her 
uspection.  I  was,  therefore,  obli^d  to  carry  her  mine. 
For  this  purpose  I  rose  and  proceeded' to  her  apartment ;  I 
thought  I  should  never  have  re^hed  it.  A  prisoner  who  ^ 
leaves  his  dungeon  to  hear  his  sentence  of  condemnation 

tronounced,  could  not  have  walked  either  more  slowly  or 
mare  dcsjectedly.    At  length  I  arrived  at  her  door.    The 


surveyed  me  9t  a  distune^  <they  were  onwillii^  to 


■   :/• 


*\    '    ^ 


■  III  ihi^j. 


.^,,,,. 


Subdued,  but  not  Beoonoiled. 


155 


I  ,- 


i: 


lose  the  smjeJlest  ciicamstances  of  my  sorrow  and  hamilm- 
tion.  I.  knocked  at  the  door,  which  was  opened.  The 
Superior  was  witiiin,  with  some  other  nuns.  This  I  perceiv- 
ed t)^  the  skirts  of  their,  rob^,  for  I  had  not  coorage  to 
raise  my  eyes.  I  "presented  my  letter  with  a  tremblmg 
hand.  She  to^ok  it  from  me,  read  it,  and  again  put  it  into 
my  hands.  I  returned  to  my  cell,  threw  myself  on  the  bed, 
the  letter  beside  me,  where  I  remained'without  reading  it, 
without  rising  to  go  to  dinner,  without  stirrmg  till  th^  after- 
noon service.  At  half  past  three,  tl}e  clock,  warned  me  to 
go  down.  Some  nuns  had  ahready  assembled  ;  the  Superior 
was  at  the  entrance  of  the  choir-;  she  stopped  me,  and  com- 
mandied  me  to  kneel  behind  the  door  upon  the  outside  ;  the 
rest  of  the  community  '^PHved,  and  the  door  was  shut. 
After  service  they  all  went  out ;  I  allowed  them  to  pass  me, 
then  rose  and  followed  last  in  the  train.  From  this  moment  I 
began  to  condemn  myself  >  to  endure  >rhatever  they  were 
{leased  to  inflict.  I  was  discharged  from  appearing  at 
church,  and  I  voluntarily  forebore  goidg  to  the  hall  or  to 
enjoy  recreation.  I  viewed  my  situationidn  every  way,  and 
I  discovered  %o  resource  but  in  submission,  and  in  the 
hecessity  which  they  felt  in  employing  my  talents.  I  should 
have  been,  contented  with  that  kind  of  oblivion  in  which,  for 
several  days  they  allowed  me  to  remain.  The  visits  of  dif- 
ferent persons  were  announced,  but  of  these  Mr. was  the 

only  one  which  I  was  permitted  to  receive.  When  I  enter- 
ed the  parlor,  I  found  him  precisely  in  the  situation  in 
which  T  was  when  hia  ineaaenger  was  introdiic<»(l  tft  mft  ;  hjff 


X  ' 


head  reclining  upqn  his  hands,  and  leaning  upon  the  grate. 


156 


An.'  Affbcting  Intk^vikw. 


I  recognized  him,  bat.  said  nothing.    He  was  afraid  either 
to  look  at  me  or  to  speak.  -r^fc^ 

"Mis8,'V  said  he,  at  last,  without  changing  his  posture, 
"I  Wrote  to  yoa  ;  did  yon  not  receive  my  letter  ?"         *   ' 
_  "  I  received  it,  but  have  not  read  it.":    _I 

"  You  don't  know,  then  "^ .  m'    ' 

"I  know  all,  I  conjectured  my  fate,  and  I  have  met  it 
with  resignation."     ^  '  a- 

'*' How  are 70U  treated  ?"       a. 

"^hey  have  not  yet  begun  to  think  of  me,  but  I  learn 
fr<jfai  the  past  what  I  must  expect  in  future.  I  have  only  one 
consolation,  that  deprived  of  the  hope  by  which  I  was  sup' 
ported,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  endure  ^o  jliuch  as  I  have 
already  suffered  ;  death  wiU  put  a  period^  my  misfOriunes. 
The  fault  which  I  have  committed  is  one  which,  in  religious 
houses,  is  never  forgiven.  I  do  not  ask  of  the  Deity  to 
soften  the  hearts  of  those  to  whose  discretion  He  has  been 
pleased  to  abandon  me,  but  I  implore  Him  to  grant  me 
strength  to  support  my  sufferings,  to  save  me  from  despair, 
and  speedily  to  call  me  to  Himself." 

"  ]!i|[iss -,"  said  he,  weepi^,  "  had  you  been  my  own 

sister  I  could  have  done  no  more."  This  man's  heart  over- 
flows with  sensibility.    "  Miss ,"  continued  he, "  if  in  any 

respect  it  is  in  my  power  to  ber'useful  to  yon,  command  my 
service.  I  shall  visit  the  — - — — ,  whose  good  opinion  I 
enjoy  ;  I  shall  likewise  wait  upon  the  ■ and  tl^e  Arch- 
bishop."       ■                 . 

"  Sir,  do  not  give  yourself  the  trouble  to  speak  to  any 


^ki- 


onejupon  the  subject ;  it  is  all  over"- 


^ 


No  Choice  op  Prisons. 


161 


\, 


^ 


"Bat  if  it  were  possible  to  obtain  permission  for  yon  to 
change  yoar  honse  ?"  • 
, "  It  is  attended  with  too  many  obstacles." 

"  Bat  pjr^y  what,  then,  tire  these  obstacles  ?" 
"ThedifBcolty  of  obtaining  permission,  the  necessity  of 
depositing  a  new  dowry,  or  of  withdrawing  the  former  one 
from  this  hoase  ;  and  besides^  what  should  I  find  in  another 
convent  ?  that  inflexibility  which  characterizes  my  heart 
would  still  accompany  me.  I  should  meet  with  Superiors 
equally  pitiless,  and  nuns  equally  unkind  as  here.  I  should 
have  the  same  duties  to  perfonn,  and  the  same  sufferings  to 
endurel  It  is  better  that  I  should  end  my  d^ys  in  this 
place  ;  at  least,  th^  period  of  nqr  misery  will  be  less 
tedious;"  - 

"Mfes  — — ,  you  have  interested  in  your  favor  many 
^orthy  persons."       '  '  ' 

1  "  But  those  people  of  worth,  you  mention,  think  no  more 
of  me.  Why  do  yol  imagine  that  people  of  the  world  are 
more  r^ady  to  contribute  to  rescue  from  the  cloister* a  nun, 
who  hais  no  call  for  the  reli^ous  life,  than  pious  persons  are 
to  introduce  into  the  convent ,  those  who  are  really  called  to 
embrace  that  situation  ?  Alks  I  sir,  I  am  forst^eu  by  all 
the  world  ;  I  now  see  nobody i"  ' 

.  "  Only  commit  that  affair  to  mq,  Miss  — — ,  and  I  shall 
be  most  ht^py." 

**  I  ask  nothing,  I  entertain  no  hopes,  I  give  no  opposition 
to  anything  yon  think  proper,  the  only,  spring  I  had  left  is 
now  broken.  Could  I  only  promise  myself  that  Heaven 
woold  prodace'a  change  in  my  heart,  and  that  the  qaali- 


/ 


■IS-.' 


mm  -' 


158 


OnTBUBStS    OF    GBisr. 


ties  of  a  religioas  state  would  succeed  to  the  hope  of^; 

quittingjt,  whicji'l  have  now  lost  j  but  that  is  impossible  ; 

this  dress*!  wear  has  attached  itself  to  my  skin,  to  my 

bones,  and  yet  only  sits  the  more  uneasy  upon  me.    Ah  i 

what  a  fate  is  mine.    To  be  compelled  for  evei^  tg  be  a  nun, 

and  to  feel  cOnscions  that  I  must  ever  remaii 

state,  to  pass  my  whole  life  in  beating  my 

gratmgs  of  my  prison."*    Here  I  began  H. 

endeavored,  but  in  vain,  to  suppress  my  vo4oe) 

surprised  at  this  appearance,  said,  ' 

*  "  Miss ,  may  I  venture  to  ask  you  a  question  ?" 


'Too  may,  sir." 

'fMust  not  grief  so  violent  be  excited  by  some 'secret 
motive?"  .''■■■"'',,:':■■■  ^  :.:/-': /'r..-\       'r','.^  -/.  .y 

"No;  sir ;  I  hate  a  life  of  solitude,  I  feel  that  I  d6test  it ; 
^  am  conscious  that  I  shall  detest  it  as  long  as  I  live.  I 
cannot  submit  to  all  the  miseries' which  fill  up  the  day  of  a 
recluse ;  it  is  a  tissue  of  puerilities,  which  I  despise.  I 
would  have  accommodated  myself  to  them,  could  my  exer- 
tions have  succeeded.  An  hundred  times  have  I  endeavor- 
ed to  impose  upon  my  understanding  to  overcome  my 
repugnance,  but  in  vain.  I  have  implored  Heaven  to  grant 
me  that  happy  imbecility  bf  mind  which  my  companions 
possessed,  but  I  have  not  obtained  it,  it  will  never  be' 
bestowed  upon  me.  Every  action  I  perform  is  wrong,  every 
ezinression  I  utter  is  vain  ;  the  defect  of  my  vocation  pene- 
trates to  every  part  of  my  conduct,  and  it  does  not  pass 
without  observation.    Every  moment  I  insfdt  the  monastic 

^my  inoftpaoily  ircaHetl  pride ;  it  is  the  employment-of^ 


d 


^       r 


■   i 


»: 


\c 


»    ^ 


^- 


,  -1^ 


Penanqks. 


tbdse  with  whom  I  lire  to  expose  me  to  humiliatioa  ;  faalts 
and  panisfaments  mnltiply  to  infinity^  and  I  spend  every 
day  in  measuring  witl|^|^y  eye  the  height  of  the  wfills/'^ 

«« jtfiss ,  it/is  not  in  my  power  to  level  them  with  the 

gpoand,  bat  I  c«in  do  somethingelse,^  AjiLi.  _^  liv  i>^ 

V  Sir,  do  no^  make  any  attempt." 

"  Yon  most  change  yonr  hon^e;  it  shall  be  my  business  to 
Wble  Yoa  ^  put  it  in  execution  ;  I  shall  return  and  pay 
you  another  visit.  I  hope  I  shall  hare  access  to  you^  you 
shall  hear  of  me  without  delay.  Be  assured  that  if  you 
fegree  to  the  atteinpt,  I  will  succeed  in  eflfecting/your  libera- 
tioq^,f^o;ia  this  place.  If  you  are  treated  here  with  extraor- 
llinary  severity,  do  not  fail  to  give  me  information." 

It  was  late  when  Mr.  — -^-went  away.  I  returned  to 
my  cell.  Almost  immediately  we  were  summoned  by  the 
bell  to  evening  service,  and  I  was  among  the  first  who 
appeared.  I  allowed  the  nuns  to  pUss  me,  and  I  took  it 
for  granted  that  I  was  to  remain  at  the  door^  and  accord- 
ingly it  was#hat  against  me  by  the  Su|perior.  4-t  rapper, 
as  she  entered,  she  made  a  8ign.>for  me  to  sit  down  upon 
the  ground  in  the  middle  of  the  refectory ;  I  obeyed,  apd 
w^  only  served  with  bread  and  water.  I  ate  a  little,  while 
I  bedeiwed  my  portion  with  n^jf^tealSr^Next  day  a  council' 
wa^  held,  an4  all  thid^memrbers  of  the  ^unnnity  were 
assembled  to  hear  .mjfT^ntence..  I  was  cmwmned  to^'be 
deprived  of  recreation,  to  attend  service  for  a  whole  month 
at  the  door  of  the  dioirj  to  receive  my  food  sitting  upon  the 
ground  in  the  middle  of  tl^o  refectory,  to  undergo  some 


'y3i 


:• 


.  f\ 


J( 


160 


The  Oratory  ^p  The  Holy,  Virgin. 


V 


"^. 


w 


the  assumption  of  the  Lbits,  and  to  repeat  my  vows,  to  ase 
the  hair  cloth,  toiast  during  two  days»  anSto  macerate 
Ayself  every  Friday  after  the  evening  service:    Iwasplaced 
upon  my  knees,  with  my  veil  dri)pped,  while-  this  sentence 
pronounced.    Next  morning  the  Superior  Came  to  my  cell, 
.accompanied  by  a  nun  carrying  upon  her  armVhair  cloth^ 
and  that  robe  of  coarse  stuff  in  which  I  was  dr'essed^^ 
when  I  was  conducted  to  the  dungeon.    I  perfectly  under- 
stood  the  meaning^  of  these  preparations.     I   undressed 
myself,  or  rather  they  tore  oflf  my  veil,  stripped  me  of  my  ^ 
clothes,  and  gave  me  the  robe  I  have  mentioned.   .My  head 
.was  uncovered,  my  feet  were  bare,  and  my  whole  garb  con- 
sisted of  the  h^r  cloth,  a  very  coarse  chemise,  and  the  long 
robe  which  fastened  round  my  neck,  and  descended  to  my 
feet.    M  this  situation  I  remained  the  whole  day,  and 
appeared  at  air  the  exercises  wa  M  to  perform.    In  the 
evening,-  when  I  had  retired  to  my  cell,  I  heaW  the  sound 
of  people  approaching,  chanting  the  litanies  ;  the  procession 
was  composed  of  all  the  members  of  the  house,  ranged  in 
two  Unes.    They  entered,  and  I  apj)eared  ;  they  put  a  cord 
round  my  neck,  a  torch  in  the  one  hand,  and  a  scourge  in 
the  other.    One  of  the  nuns  took  the  fend  pf  the  cord  and 
kd  me  between  the  two  ranks,  and  the  procession  moved  on 
bward9  a  small  private  oratory  consfecrated  to  the  Holy 
Virgin.    They  came  to  my  ceD,  chanting  in  a  solemn  voice, 
and  they  returned  in  sUence.    When  1  reached  this  little' 
oratory,  which  was  hghted  up  with  two  candles,  I  received 
orders  to  ask  pardon  of  Heaven,  and  of  the  commmiity  for 
the  scandal  I  had  ocnaHJonpd     Thn  nnn  hj  whom  I  >yu8 


•  . 


.  ,    "^'k 


>r 


»^«%\4  ^  "A.  ^ 


-o 


The  "M][serkrb"  ANb  the  "Maceration."       161 


*♦ 


'/&: 


ife 


Ci^ul^ted  told  me,  in  whisprs  what  I  was  to  say,  and  f 
repSate^it  word  for  word.    Aft€(R  this  they  took  the  cord 
from  my  neck,  they  stripped  me  to  the  middle,  they  threw 
my  hair,  which  flowed  over  my  shoulders,  to  one  side  ;  the 
scourge  which  1  carried  in  my  left  hand  was  put  into  my 
right,  and  they  bepn  the  Miserere,    I  understood  *what 
they  expected  me  to  do,  and  it  was  perfoymed.     The 
Miserere  -being  concluded,  I  received  a  short  exhortation 
from  the  Superior,  the  lights  were  extinguished,  the  nuns 
withdrew,  and  I  again  dressed  myself.    When  I  returned  to 
my  cell,  I  felt  violent  pains  in  my  feet ;  I  examined  them, 
and  found  them  covered  with  blood  from  the  wounds  they 
had' sustained  from  pieces  of  broken  glass  which  the  nuns 
had  been  so  malicious  as  ip  scatter  in  my  way.    I  under- 
went this  ignominious  punishment  in  the  same  manner  the 
two  following  days,  only  on  the  last  a  psalm  was  added  to 
the  Miserere.    Upon  the  fourth  day  my  habit  of  a  nun  was 
restored  to  me,  with  almost  the  same  ceremony'  which  is 
practised  at  this  solemnity  when  it  is  public.    Upon  the 
fifth,  I  renewed  my  vows.    In  the  course  of  a  month  I 
went  throujjh  the  rest  of  the  penance  which  they  had  impos- 
ed upon  me,  after  which,  by  degrees,  I  returned  to  the. 
ordinary  state  which  prevailed  in  the  community.    I  resum- 
ed my  place  in  the  choir  and  in  the  refectory,  and  I  dis- 
charged in  my  tura  the  various  functions  of  the  house.    But 
how  great  was  my  surprise,  when  I  observed  mj  young 
friend  who  had  so  kindly  interested  herself  in  my  fortune,*- 
She"  appeared  to  be  almost  as  much  altered  as  myself.    She 


/•;.  • 


A  «^. 


162 


A  GuAKDiAN  Angel. 


V-" 


death,  her  lips  white,  and  her  eyes  almost  sunk.  "Sister 
Ursula,"  said  I  to  her  in  a  whisper,  "what  is  the  matter 
with  you?"  '  '  m 

1  "What  is  the  matter?"  repUed  she  ;  ^'I  am  attii^  to 
you,  and  yet  you-can  ask  me  such  a  question  I  it  was  fuU 
tune  that  a  period  should  be  put  to  your  sufferings  ;  %d 
they  continued  longer,  death  must  have  proved  the  miseryt 
felt."  ..         ^  ^ 

To  her,  care  was  I  mdebted  for  escJ^pj^g  wounds  upon  my 

feet,  the  two  last  dayy  of  penance."" She  had  the  kindness 

privately  to  sweep  the  passages  and  t*  rei^ove  the  glass 
which  was  scattered  in  the  way.    On  the  dlf s  when  I  was 
condemned  !to  live  on  bread  and  water,  she  deprived  herself 
of  a  part  of  her  allowance,  which  she  wrapped  in  a  clean 
piece  of  cloth,  and  threw  it  into  my  cell.    The  nun  who  was 
to  lead  me  by  the  cord  was  chosen  by  lot,  and  tj^e  lot  fell 
upon  her.    She  had  the  firmness  lo  caU  upon  the  Superior,  . 
and  protest  to  her  that  she  would  sooner  die  than  un^r-  - 
take  this  infamous  and  cruel  office.    Fortunately,  this  young 


lady's  family  was  possessed  of  considerable  wealth ;   she 


X. 


enjoyed  a  large  annmty,  vhich  she  em*pioyed  in  ^manner 
that  pleased  the  Superior,  and  for  a  few  trifling  gifts,  she 
found  a  nun  to  take  her  place.    I  will  not  be  so  presumpl^ 
tuous  as  to  imagine  that  iU  signal  displeasure  of  Heaven 
was  displayed  against  the  base  creature  who  undertook  the 
task,  in  the  misfortune  under  which  she  has  faUen.   She  has 
become   mad,  and  is  confined,  but    the   Superior   lives, 
governs,  torments,  and  enjoys  perfect  health. 
.^.  I|  hm  impusHiblB  that  my  conslilution  could  resist  trials 


#. 


ii 


X 


-jiAf^lTBf- 


.i*„ 


^ 


f«f. 


The  Sacraments. 


16a 


so  rude  and  so  lengthened  ;  I  fell  sick.  In  this  critical  sitii- 
"  .a,tion  it  was  that  Sister  Ursula  really  testified  the  sincerity 
of  the  friendship  she  had  conceived  for  me— she  saved  my 
life.    As  she  herself  would  sometimes  tell  me,  what-she;  has 
thus  preserved  could  not  be  called  a  blessing,  yet  there  was 
no  kind  of  service  which  I  did  not  experience  from  her  atten- 
tion on  those  days  when  it  was  her  turn  to  preside  in  the 
infirmary.    Neither  was  I  neglected  at  other  times,  thanks 
to  the,.mterest  she  took  in  my  welfare,  and  to  the  rewards 
which  she  distributed  among  those  wjio  nursed  me,  in  pro-     ; 
portion  as  they  gave  me  satisfaction.    She.asked  permission "  . ' 
to  watch  me  during  the  night,  ^nd  the  Superior  refused  her- 
request,  under  pretext  fhat  she  was  too  delicate  to  support 
the  fatigue.    This  refusal  she  considered  as  the  most  afflict- 
ing disappointment.    ^11  the  attentions' she  bestowed,  how- 
.  ever,  could  not  check  the  progress  of  m'^istemper  ;  I  was    " 
reduced  ^^^Llast  extremity,  and  received  the  Sacrament^s. 
A  few  m^S  before  they  were  al^i^tered,  I  requested 
to  see  all  the  members  of  the  comma«Passembled,  And  the  ^^ 
favor  was  granted.    The  nuns  stood  round  my^bed,  and  the  v 
Superior  in  the  middle  of  them.    My  young  friend  sat  at  my 
pillow,  and  held  my  hand,  which  she  bedewed  with  her  tears. 
They  conjectured  that  I  had  somethingto  say.  .They  raised     - 
me  up>  and  supported  me  in  an  erect  posture  by  the  assist- 
ance of  two  pillows.    Then,  addressing  myself  to  thb  Supe- 
rior, I  entreated  her  benedicMon,  and  tha.t  she  would  forget      ~ 
the  faultff  I  had  committed.    Of  all j^y  companions  I  asked 
Jggjdonfijr  the  Bcahdal  my  coodnet  had  occasionod.'    I  had      j 
flont  for  a  number  of  toys,  which  formed  either  the  ornaments 


^  . 


..   \ 


■^    . 


% 


,t 


X.  '.'<- 


:^j^' 


:"S' 


^m 


■■-.  "I  1     .      ■ 

Fes  Ti^CE .  op"'Peath,  in  JLifb. 


sf  my  cell  orAwere  reserved  for  my  particular  use,  and  I 
entreated  the  Snpefior'*  permission  to  dispose  of  th^m.  She 
Consented,  .and  I  bestcflr ed  them  on  the  rinns  who  Had  acted 

'  as  her  attendants  when  I  was  throj^n  into  the  dungeon.  I 
desired  her  who  hVd  led  me  by  the  cord  on  the  day  of  my 
penance  to  approach,  and  embracing  her,  while  I  presented 

.her  with  my  rosary  W  cruoifi^,  I  said  : 


"Dear  Sister,  i^member  me  in  your  prayers,  and  be 
assured  that  I  yiUnoi  forget  you  Ijefore  Hearven/'  '  r 

And  why  did  not  the  Supreme  Being  call  me  away  at 
this  moment  ?     I  should  iiave-  gone  to  him  without  dis- 
quietude ;  and  what «  blowing  ip  such  a  state  of  mind  I  Who 
,      can  presume  that  he  will  |N)ssess  it  a  second  -time  ?    This 
trying  occasion,  however,  idust  again  return  ;  and  may  the 
solemn  Jiour.be  as  tranquil\as  that  which  I  then  experi- 
.enced  1     I  saw  the  heavenk  opened,  and  doubtless  they 
,  were,  for  then  conscience  no  I6nger  deceives,  and  mme  gave 
^  promise  of  eternal  felicity.  \  After  receiving  the  Sacra- 
,.   ,ment,  I  fell  into  a  kind  of  lethargy  ;  all  this  night,:!  was 
given  ove£    From  time  to  tunb  they  came  and  felt  my 
pulse.   I  was  sensible  of  the  toucWpf  "hand^  9M^g  over  my 
face  ;  and  I  heard,  seemingly,  disiant  voices;  saying—"  It 
increased  I    Her  nose  is  cold  1     She  will  not  sMvk|.an^ 
hourl    "The  rdsary  and  cruciBx  \^^ be  yours  1"  ^ftile 
another,  in  a  tone  of  resentment,^  sW—"  Retire,  r^re ; 
allow  her  to  die  in  peace.    Have  yon%ot  ali-eady  tormented^ 
her  enough?"    How  delightful  were-iny  sensations,  upon 
recovering  from  this  crisis,  and  agai»  opening  my  eyes,  to 
find  myself  in  the  arms  of  njy  friend  I    She  had  never  Iqft 


;?^ 


'T 


#.■ 


The  ii!iirAKENiNG. 


) 


165 


.me  ;  shh  had  passed  the  night  in  ministeriDg  to  xigtj^assist- 
X^jance,  in  xeieating  the  prayers  for  persons- iji  their  last 
'     log^ies,  in  faking  me  kiss  the  craciliz,  anji];  applying  it  to 
•heroin  lip^,  after  withdra>wing  it  froin  mine.    When  she  ,^ 
,  saw  my  eyes  roll,  and  heard  me  breathe  a:  ;,^Eofoand  sigli, 
she  imagined  that  it  was  my  last ;  and,  Calling  me  her 
^      friend,  uttered  doleful  cries,  saying — "  Oh  Heaven  1  "^have 
;  ^  compassion  uppn  ^er  and  upon  me  I    Receive  her  'spirit ! 
Beloved  frieM,  When  you  are  before  the  throne  of  Grt^ce, 
remember  Sister  Ursula  I"    I  looked  on  her,  sadly  smilihg,' 
and  dropped  a  tear  as  I  pressed  her  hand.   At  this,  moment,   ' ' 

Dri'  B-- anrived.    This  was  the  physician  of  the  house, 

reputed  a  man  of.  ability,  but  despotic,  haughty  and  severe ; 
.  he  tore  my  friend  from  me  with  violence  ;  he  felt^  my  pulse 
and  my  skin  ;  he  was  accompanied  by  the  Superior  and   ^^ 
her  favorites.    After  a  few  short  questions  With  regard  to 
what  had  taken  place,  M  answered.:  * 

'"She  i[fill  recover ;"  aM  turning  to  the  Superior,  who    ^ 
derived  no  plejpisure  from  thiss  observation— "  yes,  madam,'* 
said  he,  "  she  ipl^ recover  ;  her  skin  is  favorable  ;  the  fever' 
has  abated  ;  life  begins  to  dawn  anew  in  her  #es."  ^ 

'  1  At  evei'y  word  of  this,  joy  beamed  on  the  countenance  ofSw 
Hay  filend,  while,' on:  the  features  of  the  Superior  and  her 
com|>anion»,  were  displayed  a  disaimJMlmc^nt  apd  chagrin^ 
whicEHfennbt  de^ibe,  abd  whicl|  IP^^O 
al^e  tSmips'emble.^ 

iHsl^'*-^"' 


■*v^ 


^v 


«  td 


ribe,  abd  whicl|lpl|t'constrain4rwas  illy'' 


\     » 


-■L 


'1  nolongi 


So  much  the  worse,"  rep 
^  twin  or^erJ,  he  departed^ 


to  live.'*        »>tM  ^ 

and,  after  giving  cer- 
■  ^4^ 


Ik 

I.  ■  «r 


S^.i 


V      .< 


Sister  Ursula's  Illness.  / 

that  daring  my  lethargy  I  .frequently  repeated 
lotlier,  you  then  beckon  me  to  you.    I  am  com-. 

^-  *^  J^'^^^'    ^  ^^^  *®^^  y°^  ^^^•"    I*  was  my  old  Supe- 
rior whsffld^rbbalply  lithus  addressed  :  I  have  no  djBubt  of 
her  picture  to  no  one^'  but  desired  to  caJ^y  it 

"^^,™®  *^  ^^^  grave.    The  pifognostic  of  Dr.  B 

rallied;'  the  fever  Euabsided;  it  was  carried  off  by 
cdpious  perspiration,  anOno  doubt  was  now  entertained  of 
™y  .car|    I  did  indeed  reeover,  but  the  period  of  my  conva- 
lescence'^was  very  tedious.    It  was  ^ireed  that  I  should 
endure  in  this' house  all  the  sufferings  it' is  possible  to  expe- 
rience.   My  distemper  was  in  its  nature  malignant ;  Sister 
Ursula  had  hardly  ever  left  me  a  moment.    As  I  began  t</ 
regain  jnj  strength,  hers  began  to  decline  ;  her  stomach  was 
deranged  j .  in  the  afternoon  she  was  .attacked  by  i&nting 
fits,  which  sometimes  lasted  a  quarter  of  an  hour  j  in  this 
situation  she  appeared  as  dead ;  her  eyes  sunk ;  a  cold 
.sweat  covered  her  brow,  and,  collecting  in  drops,  flowed-, 
'down  her  cheeks  ;  her' arms  huiy^  mgionless  and  pale.   tThe 
OAJy  way  in  which  she  received  any  benefit  was  by  unlacing  • 
her  stays  and  untying  her  clothes.    'When  she  ^  recovered 
from  the  swoon,  her  first  impulse  was  to  look  for  me  at  her 
side'  {  and  there  she  always^found  me ;  sometimes,  even  when 

l^ness,  she 
.   ^^  ^   eyes, 
Thfe  object  of  this  /|Gtion  Was  so  \»:eir'^own^^at  som§  ■ 
nuns  presenting  themsefees  to  her  han^  thus  groping  ^kd, 
aaS  not  beine  discovered,  because  B)f  then  happened  tp 
relapse  witbotfTmOtioli,  woul^  say  to  me  :    '       ,«,*'.  .1  ^ ' 


y^ 


she  retained  a  certain  portio)iix|^i(ffligc|  d 
would  stretch  her  handfi  r<A^®ouf O] 


■   *' 


#-:;'^* 


•' —  ■ 

-  s-  ■ 

-    «■: ; ;. A.;  'r   ;;:, 

^m 

*,  ■  ■ 

r'--..v     ^ 

-;*,\ 


'H'    1 


.w»,  . 


•A 


The  Crdel  SppEWOR, 


16t 


• "  8ist^r*>j^ — %  it  is  you.  sjbe  wishes  j  coine  here." 
ThcA  I  would  place  pys'elf  at  W  feet,  Jay  myhand  upon- 
/her  forehead,  and  there  it.remamed' till  the  swoon  subsided. 

■   When  it  was  over;  sh&  would  say  to^  mQ,:  '  ■  •     '\' 
„.    "Ah,  ^ist°6r '---—,  it  is  I  who  ai^  to  go  away,  and  you" 
who  are  to  remain  hehind  ;  it  is  I  who  am  first  to  see  her  ° 
again  ;  I  will  speak  to  her  of  you,  and  she  will  weep.  When 
she  hears  your  sad  story ;  if  tl^ey  still  love  in  Heaven, 
surely  it  is  no  crime  to  weep.  •  If  tears  sire- sometimes  bit- 
,ter,  they  are  sometimes,  too,  delightfaily  sweet."    Then  she 
reclined"  her  head  upon  my  rieck,  wept  profusely,  and  added :/ 
"Adieu,  Sister — ^  ;  ad^eu,  ^my  friend;  who  will  share 
your  sufferings  when  I  am  np  more?    Oh,  my  dearest 
friend,  how  I  lament  yott  !    I  am  about  to.  leave  you  ;  I  - 
feel  that  I  am.  'Jf  you  ^ere  hd^y,  how  deeply  should  I 
regret  to  die  1"  ^-       •   ^     ^         .        ,  '  ? 

I  was  eitremelyalahjiciSl*  at  her  situation;  Ippoketothe 
Superior ;  I  proposed  that  she  should  b^  taken  to  the  infir- 
mary ;  that  she  should  be  exempted  from  attending  at  ser- 
vice, and  from  perfonni|ig  any  of  the  •laborious  exercises  of 
the  house,  and  that  a  physician  should  be  called.  But  I 
only  received  for  ahswer,  tl»at  Her  complaint  was  nothing 
serious;  that^lje  fointmg  fits, to  which  she  was  subject 
would  go  away  of  themselves,  and  Sister  Ursula  was  per- 
,fectly  contented  to  discharge  her  usual  duties,  and  to  follow 
her  ordinary  course  of  life.  ^"^■ 

''  One  day,  after  matins,  at  which  she  had  been  present, 
she  did  not  appear  again  as  usual ;  I  conceived  that  she 
must  be  very  ill.    When  morning  services  were  over,  I  flew 


^*\ '  ■■;■ 


168 


The-  Packet  or 


She  was,  so 
to  prononnce 


*?*■ 


.APERi 

to  her  apartment,  and  found  her  fying  olTtBa^  bed,  dressed. 
When  I  entered,  she  said  to  me  :      j 

"  Are  you  there,  my  dear  friend  ?  I  feared  gi^atly/that 
ybu  would  be  long  in  coming,  and  I  expected  yoiv  /With 
what  iniipatience  did  I  long  tp  see  you  1  My  swoon/was  so 
severe  and  so  long,  that  I  believed  i^was  to  continuVfor 
ever,  and  that  I  was  never  to  see  you  more.  There  is  hio 
key  of  my  oratory  ;  open  the  drawers  ;  raise  a  little  bbard\ 
which  sepatf ates  the  drawer  from  below  upwards  into  two 
parts  ;  behind  this  board  you  wilTSn^Vpacl^et  of  papers. 
I  have  never  been  able  to  summon  sufi&cie^i  resolution  to 
part  With  them,  in  spite  of  the  danger  whic^  keeping  them 
occasioned.    When  I  am  no  more,  they  a]p^yours." 

feeble  and  so- oppressed,  that  she  was  unable 
together  two  words  of  this  address.  She  hes- 
itated between  every  syllable,  and  sp0ke  so  l^w,  too,  that, 
although  my  ear  was  close  to  her  mo4th,  I  faikji  the  utmost 
difficulty  in  hearing  what  she  said.  /I  took  the  key,  pointed 
with  my  finger  to  the  oratory,  an^  8h,e  taade  signs  that  I 
was  right.  Feeling  now  a  presentiment  that  I  was  .about  to 
lose  her,  and  persuaded  that  her  malady  was  a  cqspsequence 
of  mine,  or  pccasioned  by  the  fa||gu6  she  had  undergone,  I 
burst  into  tedrs,  and  yielded^  to,  the  emo^ams  of  the  most 
violent  a^Kction  ;  I  kissed  lier  forehead,  her  eyes,  her  face, 
I^er  hands ;  I  ftsked  he/  forgiveness.  Meanwhile,  she 
appeared  totalj^bsent.  /  S%dld  not  hear  me,  and  one  of 
herhftnds,  moving  geut^J^Sfrards  and  forwards,  stroked 
my  face.    Lbelieve  thit  sm  no  longer  saw  me  :  perhaps, 

even,  she  imagined  I  hqid  gone  away,  ibr  she  called; 

/    •     '"-    ]■■■ 


^. 


m- 


) 


■MjAa 


^ "  1 ' 


/ 


Another  Angel  in  Heaven. 


\ 


169 


..-'  " Sister -^-"1"  ^  ' 

I  said,  "  Here  I  am."  •  - 

"  What  o'clock  is  it  ?»^  -:i^  . 

"  It  is  half-past  eleven."  '"  /     " 

"  Half-past  eleven  1    Go  to  dinner ;  fSP  ;  you  will  return 

immediately."  •'    >  "^   /  ' 

" ' "     -  -.  -     ^  - 

The  bell  rang  for  dinner,  and  I  was  obliged  to  quit  her  ; 
when.  I  had  reached  the  door,  she  called  me  back,  and  I 
returned.  She  made  an  effort  to  present  me  het  face  ;  I 
kissed  it ;  she  took  my  hand,'and  kept  it  fast  locked  in  hers. 
She  seemed  tmvilling;  even  unable,  to  leave  me.  ' 
^  "  It  must  be,  however,"  said  slhe,  as  she  let^  pie  go  ;  "  it ' 
%the  will  of  Heaven ;  adieu,  Sister  -^—,  a^eu.    Give  me. 

I  pllfc  into  iier  haiid,  and  went  away.  '  When  we  were 
about  to  rise  from  the  table,  I  adg-essed  myself  to  the 
Superior ;  I  spoke  to  hei«,  in  presenca||^ll  the  nuns,  of  the 
ganger  of  Sister  tTrsula,  and^  presseSlKf^  to  judge  of  her 
dWtion,  id  person.        \    .  ''     '"  m        ' 

"  X«ry  weU,"*said  she  j  '*  we  mu^t  see  her.^' 
^Vent  up  stjOrs,  accompanied  by  some  others,  audi , 
xThey  enterje'd  her  cell ;  poor  Sister  Ursula  was 
no  more  !  eh^  was  stretched  upon  her  b6d,  with  her  clotl 
on,  her  head  r^cKning  upon  the  pUlow,  her  mouth  and  eye 
shut,  and  the  crB^jf  in  her  hand.    There  wag^  another  angel 
in  heayen.     The  Superior  coolly  gazed  upon  her,  and 
Bftid: 

"  She  ia  dead.  vWho  cbdd  have  imagined  that  she  was 


/ 


/ 


/ 


V 


%' 


ito? 


Toe  Oratory. 


'♦■•  * 


A- 


h,s  ?' 


•^ 


■   Wl  '. 


li*^: 


;*  "^ 


fo  near  her  eod?    She  was  an  excellent  girl ;  let  the  bell 
,  toll  her  kn^U,'  and  let  her  be  buried." 

I  remained  alone  by  her  pillow.  It  is  impossible  for  me 
'.to  paint  my  sorrow,  yet  I  en^ieS  her  fate.  I  sat  down 
beside  %^,  bathed  h^r  with  my  tears,  kissed  her  again  and 
again,  and  spread  the  sheet  over  her  face,  the  features  of 
which  now  bej^an  to  change.  I  then  bethooght  me  of  exe- 
cntiDg  the  commission  with  which  she  had  entrusted  me. 
To  ^revenfeanterrnption  in  the  discharge  of  this  task,  I 
wdted  till  all  the  members  of  the  house  were  employed  at 
seTfice.  I  opepcd  the  oratory,  removed  the  board,tand 
fonnd  a'%|ge  bundle  of  papers,  which  I  have  managed  to 
preserve  twuigh  all  my  troulbles  and  difficulties,  and  a  por- 
tion  orwhicwihave  gijren  the  reader,  in  the  form  of  a  his- 
tory of  Core 

J^S  now^  left itlag^in  the'  house,  indeed  in. the  world, 
fo|r  t^^  knew  no  hv^ln  bemg  that  was  interested  in  my 
fortune.:  Such  was  my  state  of  mind  when  our  ecclesiastic 
superiors  paid  a  viat  to  the  ho.use.  They  entered,  they  trar 
versed  the  cells,  they  questioned  the  nuns,  they  required  an 
Recount  of  both  the  spiritual  and.  temporal  administration  ; 
'according  to  the  temper  w;hich  they  bring  along  with  them 
to  the  discharge  of  this  duty,  they  repair,  or  they  increase 
the  disorder.  I  had^j^^w  an  opportunity  of  again  meeting 
the  honest  and  rigid  Archbishop,  with  bis  two  young  and 
compassionate  attendanti:!  They  seemed  to  recollect  the 
deplorable  state  in  which  I  had  formerly  appeared  before 
them ;  their  eyes  glistened  with  tears,  and  I  remarked  the 


Tub  Pkomised  Change.       '  -I    •*    1*1 

expwMions  of  sympathy  and  joy  upon  their  countenance! 
The  Archbishop  sat  down  and  placed  me  opposite  to  him. 
Hia  two  companions  stood  behind  his  chair,  and  their  looks 
were  fixed  on  me. 

"Sister,"  said  the  Archbishop, « pray  how  are  you  served 

now  ?"  .  ; 

. ^ 


I       1 


•>'*/ 


/.       I  replied,  "  Sir,  I  am  forgotten." 
-     "So  much  the  better." 

"  And  this  is  the  utmost  extent  of  my  wishes  ;  but  I  have 
an  important  favor  to  request  of  you,  and  that  isjto  invite 
hither  the  Mother  Superior." 
"And  why?" 

"  Because,  if  any  complaint  happens  to  be  made  against 
her,  she  will  not  fail  to  ascribe  it  to  me." 

"I  understand,  but  still  inform  me  of  all  you  know 
concerning  her."  .  ^        . 

."Sir,  I  entreat  you  to  call  her,  and  that  she  may  hear 
both  your  questions  and  my  answers." 

"  Tell  usi  nevertheless." 

"  Sir,  you  seem  desirous  to  ruin  me." 
"Noj  entertain  no  apprehension  of  any  kind.    From  thii 
moment  she  has  no  authority  over  you;  before  the  end  of 

.  this  week  you  will  be  transferred  to  Saint -  of -. 

You  have  a  good  friend." 

"A  good  friend,  sir,?    I  do aot  know  who  that  can  be." 

"  It  is  your  lawyer." 

"Mr.  — '■ —  ?»  .  j^ 

"^    "The  same."  # 

"  I  did  not  imagine  that  he  atiil  kept  me  in  rcanernVrance." 


V 


in- 


Its 


A  CuBious  Archbishop. 


'      "*! 


"He  has  waited  upon  your  sisters;  the  Chief  President,. 
.  and  all  who  are  remarkable  for  piety.     He  has  lodged  your 
dowry  in  the  house  I  have  mentioned,  and  yotf  have  now 
only  a  very  short  time  to  remain  here."  *, 

The  Archbishop  perceiving  that  he  could  obtain  no  satis- 
faction, left  the  room  with  a  recommendation  of  secrecy 
upon  what  they  had  told  me  of  my  translation  to  Saint  -^^rt 
As  the  Archbishop   walked  alone  through  the  passage,, 
his  two  companions  returned  and  paid  their  respects  to  me  in 
a  manner  exti^emely  tender  and  aflfectionate.-   I  am  ignorant 
who  they  are,  but  may  Heaven  preserve  to  them  that 
feeling  and  compassionate  character  which  is  so  rarely  to  be  , 
found  in  their  situation,  and  which  so  well  becomes  the 
depository  of  the  weakness  of  mankind,  and  the  intercessors 
for  Divine  Mercy.    I  suppose^  that  the  Archbishop,  ifas   " 
employed  in  consoling,  exannning  or  rebuking  some  other 
nun,  when  he  again  entered %y  ceU.    "By  what  means,"  " 
said  he,  "  did  you  become  acquainted  with  Mr.     '    V>    ^ 

"  In  the  course  of  my  suit."  ' 

,     "  By  whom  was  he  recommended  ^rfon  fM-THe  conduct 

of  itr  :  '...^v  ■■■■"■*:^'' ■■, 

"By  the  ' 


.» 


"You  must  have  haci  frequent  conferences  with  -him  in 
the  course  of  your  business  ?" 
"  No,  sir,  I  saw  him  but  seldom.'? 
"  How  did  you  communicate  to  him^j^uir'ioBtructions  ?» 
"  By  a  journal  written  with  my  own  hand.*' 
"Ton  have  preserved  copies  of  these  papei's  ?" 
"No,  sir."         '  *       < 


;; -V_ 


i.     . 


Thk  Unopened  Lsiteb. 


118 


•i 


^By  whom  were  they  conveyed  to  him  ?" 
V.      *'3ythe- ."  ,  .  r\ 

"And  hoif  were  you  introdaced  to  her  acquaiatance 

"By  Sister  tlrsula,  my  friend,  and  her  relation." 

"     "  You  have  seen  Mr.  ^—  since  the  loss  of  your  suit  V 

I_"Gnce,"-     -■■„_'    ._     ,^'   ^L___     :^.'  -■  ■     .- 

fc  "That  is  very  seldom.    Yovl  have  never  written  to  him  ?» 


^"He  will  donbtles^  inform  you  of  what  he  has   done 

for  you.    I  command  you  i^ot  to  see  him  in, the  parlor,  and 

,  if  ha  writes  to  you.,either"  directly  or  indirectjy  to  send 

me  his  letter  without  opening  it." 

'     "  Yes,  sir*,' I  wUl  obey  you."  "  **" 

„  Whether  the  distrust  of  the  Archbishop>)inted  to  me  or  to " 
my  benefactor,  I  was  haft  by  it.    m,  ^—  came  to  — ^  that 
very  evening.    I  kept  my  word  to  the  Archbishop  and 
refined  to  see  hun  ;  next  day  he  wrote  to  me  by  his  inessen- 
,.      ,  g«r ;  I  received  his  letter  and  sent  it  unopened  to  the  Arch- 
^%5bi8hpp.    To  the  best  of  my  recollection,  this  happened  upon 
;  Tuesday.  lexpected,  with  the  utmost  impatience,  th^xesnltof^ 
the  promise  of  the  Archbishop  and  th'eexertions  of  Hr  — . 
'     Wednesday,  Thursday,  Friday  passed  without  my  hearing 
anything  upon  the  subject.^    How^eiy  tedious  i^id^these 
days  appear  ;  I  trembled,  lest  some  obstacle  had  ttccurred 
to  derange  the  whole  plan.    I  was  not  to  recLr  my 
•    ^  liberty,  bdt  I  ^as  ttf  change  my  prison,  apd  that  wis  some- 
thing.   The  first  instance  of  gdod(?fortune  inspires  in  our  ' 
.minds  the  fiopo  of  a  second,  and  this  perhaps  is  the  origin 
of  the  proverb,  "  That  good  luck  seldom  comes  single."    I 


..  >> 


""10^ 


174 


The  Departure. 


,*- 


ili 


»     r-**. 


was  acquainted  with  the  Qompanions  I  was  about  to  quit, 
.    a;nd  I;fiasily  supposed  that  I  should  gain  something  by  living 
,     among  other  persons.    Be  they  what  they  might,  they  codld 
neither  be  more  malicious  nor  worse-intentioned.    On  Satur- 
day moi'ning  about  mne  o'clock,  a  great  commotion  arosfejn" 
.^  the  hou^e ;  a  very  triflmg  matler  ^erves  to  throw  the  heads. 
P^  nuns  in  a  ferment ;  they  went  to  and  fro,  they  whispered,  ^^ 
the  doors  of  the  dorndtories  opened  and  shut  incessantly. 
This,  asjpu  may  have  observed  from,  what  I  have  already 
faid,  is, the  signal  of  monastic  revolutiops.    I  was  alone  c 
^   fii  my  e«ll,  apd'  waited  in  finxions  suspense  ;  my  heart  beat  • 
„  J  listened  at^^  door ;  I  looked  throH^  the^window;'  I 

roamed   abouf^ithout  being  dbnscioM  of  what  I  did.    / 
.  V^epilflbgwith  joy,  I  said  to  myself,  A  it  jglne  they  are'-  ' 
coming  to^^k,  i»  a  jj^ment  1  shall  be  here  no  logger," 
*°^Jf^TJ^^9*  mistaken.  cj3^wo  persons  "I;  Had  never  seen.     ' 
preseptejP^||Baselve^.  to  me  ;  they  were  a  nun,  wid  a  girl ";  in 
a  siiigle  ()^y|||hey  communicated  to  me  the  object  rf  their  * 
visit ;  I  collepted  in ^^  hurry  the  few  things  that  belonged  to* 
me,  having  carefully  wrapped  the  papers*  of  .Sister  ^pula 
in  one  of  ipy  hafc^ts,  and  that!  carried  myself,.  *wi(ih5.p|rtica-  ^ 
lai'  cftjre.    I  did  not  ask 'twrmisBion  to, "see  the  Superior ; 
Sister  Ursula  was  no  more,  and  I  Vras  thesrefortf  leafing 
nobody  who  car^or  me,  or  whom  I  loved.    I  went  ^ow^ 
fitairs;#the  ditors  were,  thl'bwn  open.    I  skipped  into  the 
coach,  and  was  driven  away.       '  ^  _^',      '■J, 

^  The  Archbishop  and  his  two  young  ecclesiastics,  the^ady 

of  the  — i— ,•  and  Mr. were  assembled  in  the  Superiorfp  ^ 

apartment,  im||  they  were  infonued  of  my  d#{^bare.    On 

h  '•^/-*   ^'  v  *    ;  •  ■  -•  ^    •  .^.,  .-        h  '  C'...  .■■■  ■■ 


4rl 


■  »■■.- 
4" 


3 


■4J 


t. 


~r-^ ~ 


^^ 


>.* 


My  .New  Convent.^ 


175 


•     the  road,  tlie  nun  acquainted  me  with  eyery thing  relatiye 

/to  the  house;  an4^by  way  of  chorus  to  evp^xpression 

which  was  utjtete4  in  its  praise,  the  girl  ad^ed,  "  It  is  down- 

a  right  trqth."/  She  congratulated  herself  that^he  choice  of 

•coming  for/me  had  fdllea  upon  her,  aod>t  the  samp  tinie 

made  j^  teiider  of  heqr  friendship.    In  consequence  of  this  she 

entrusted.'me  with  some  secrets,  and- gave  me  some  advice 

.  with  jegard  to  the  conduct  I  ought  ^tofoUovf.  Her  advice 
was,  ppobably^i^ery  proper  for  her  situation.  But  it  was  not 
applicable  to  mine.-  X^do  nofejknow  whether  you  have  ever 
ipeeh  the  convQiit  of-— i:..   It>  is  a  lafge,'  square  buUding, 

one  of  the.sides  oftihieh  ovfi^oks  the  road  leading  to , 

the  other  the  river  —^,  "[  At  each  c*  the  ftbnt  windows 
wereone,  two,  or 'three  nuns;  and  from  thiscircu»istance  I  . 
derived  poi-e  knowledge  of  the  order  that  prevailed  in  the 
•house  than  from  all  the  nun  and  her  compjlniph  had  said. 
It  eeem^'liat  they  kn«;w  the  cl^iyiage  in  whfeh  wfe  were, 
for  in  a  twinkling  all  the  veils  disappeared,  and  I  art-ived 
at  the  gate  of  my  newipfisdi^,    f  he  S&peridr  came  to  m^et 

.    me  with  open  arms,  embraced  me,  took  my  hand  and  led  me 

A  iyto  the  hall  lyhich^elonged'to  the  community,  where  a  few ; 
nu^  had  assembled  before  I  entered,  and  to  which  others* 


immediately^flocke^.,        *;  V 

The  naiue  of  this  Superior  was  Madam  - 

..  ■■    ■-■\  * 


t" 


resist  .the  uapulse  I  feel  to  give  a  description  of  her  before 
proceeding  'fiyrther.    She  is  a  little  woman,  very  plump,  yet 
nunble  and  active  in  her  motions.    Her  D^  never  stands 
still  upon  her  shoulders  a  single*moment.    There  is  always- 
som^flujttg  out  of  order  in  her  dress;  hi  figure  is  neither 


;,>-•'- 


#■ 


■  ^W 


M. 


,i,#.  4  .. 


*  "0/ 


•* 


4 


>-*■?*.  i 


.», 


% 


{\ 


y*-V 


;     -sh 


_^_    .4 


h' 


M' 


((■    tr. 


116 


The  Strangb  Superior, 


} 


good  nor  bad ;  her  eyes,  one  of  which^  the  right,  is  higher 
and  larger  than  the  other,  are  full  of  fire,  mixed  with  some- 
thing  of  wildness.    When  she  walks,  she  draws  her  arms 
backwards  and  forewards.    When  she  is  going  to  speak,  she 
opens  her  mouth  before  she  has  arranged  her  ideas,  and 
therefore  stutters  a  little.     When  she  sits,  she.shifts  about 
in  her  chair,  as  if  she  felt  uneasy.     She  is  totally  careless 
of  decorum.    Shp  speaks  to  you,  and  tW  bewilders  herselfj 
stops  short,  and  fp^ets  wherQ  she  was^  loses  her  temper^ 
and  calls  you  ass, 'brute,  idiot,  if  you  cannot  lead  ii6r"^Mck 
to  the  subject.j(  Sometimes  she  is  so  familiar  as  to  say  ihsA 
and  thm ;.  sometimes  haughty  and  imperious,  even  to  dis- 
dain.   Her  moments  of  dignity  are  short.    She  is  alter- 
nately tender  and  severe.     The  discomposure  of  her  figni^e 
murks  all  the  disoEder  of  her  mind,  and  the  inequality  of 
her  character ;  from  this  cajise,  order  and  cpnfasion  altw- 
.    nately  succeed  each  other  in  the  house.    Some  days  all  dfii,* 
.   tinction  and  order  were  confounded,  boarders  and  novices, 
.novices  and  nuns,  were-  mingled  together,;  they  ran  frMf 
ch,amber  to  chamber,  or  took  W,  coffee,  chocolate,  wine^,  witrf"^ 
each  other ;  or  service  was  hurried  over  with  incredijjie  celerity . 
In  the  midst  of  this  tumult,  the  countenance  of  the  Superic^'^ 
.  suddenly  changes  ;  the  bell  rings,  the  nuns  retire,  and  shut' 
themselves  in  th?ir  apartments  j  the  most  profpiind  fijjence' 
Bucceedsto  nojse,  shouting,  and  tumult,  and jod.'W'^aid  imagine  " 
thatail  at  onuft  Death  had  visited  every  creajSure  ip  th^    " 
hons?.    If  a  nun,  at  such  a  time  is  guilty  of  the  sli|htest 
o;nission,  the  gttpel-ior  sumnioris  ter  to  her  "cell,  treat^"^ 
her  with  tigor,  edmmand^er.touiidre^s,  and  g^^^  hewelf 


T# 


^' 


'I 


'H: 


i 

0     y 


V 


Tender  and  Severi!. 


m 


^^ 


'■*. 


■*.  ti 


twenty  stripes  with  the  scourge.    The  nuA  obeys,  undresses'?  «" 
herself,  takes  the  scourge,  and  macerates  herself  ;btft  no 
sooner  has  she'l^sto,wed  *  fejifc  stripes,. tlian  the  Sqperia^*'^^?^ 
having  resumed  her  sympathetic  disgos^on,' snatches  tn^^ 


y^si'."" 


\.t 


'.     instrument  of^toc9>  htfrsteinti^  tears7j^n*5-he#DSpft|fc.,^ '•'^ ^i^W^i 
tunef'in  beiijg  pWiged  to  ^nish,  kisses ^er  fifoi^ea^-  '!»# ;    * '  /  •     '  ". 
eyes,  her  i!ftouth,'h»  ^hoolders,  loads  her  with  caresses  and  ♦^^  '^'^  :^* 

■  .  .  with  :^raises^    She  then  raises  hgr  pp,  drei^es  her  with         '     ,    : 
her  own  hands,  says'^lo  h«r  ili^Mndest  things,  dapenses        *',  ' 
with  her  a.ttendance  upon  ei^rcisSs;  and  sends  h%r  back   -    -- 
to  her  bell.    It  is  extremely  unplea^nt  to  be  placed  with 
women  of  this  character  •  we  cannot  tell  either  what  Will     m.    \       , 
please  'or  displease  them,  what  we  ought  to  do  or  what  yri.    %.  :  ■*•    .    , 

/    ought  to  i  avoid,     i^idng  is  conducted,  after  a  regular/^ 
••  Bystpmt^ire  ftr(B,eiraf0riBnppli6d,with  .profusion  or  starved  to 

death.'  The  econoi^Jr  of  the  hodse  is  thrown  intd^^edSfttaion  ;  ' 
'   ijenionstrai^ces  either  grreofifenoB  or  are  neglected.    WeJi^e'0 

',,.  either  loo  near  or  too* fay  removed  from  Superiors  ^f'^hls,  ?  ^ 

.   „  descri5)tion.    Neither  true  distance  nor  propet  measure  irp' 
.   observed.    We  plass  from  disgrace  to  favor,  and  from  favdr 
to'disgrace,  withcwt  toiowingf  wly.     Such  was  the  womap 
to:  whom  I.had.^MLen- the  solemn  vos^  of  o~bedience  yfo]f  out    V 

^^  .vow?  accompany  us  from  one  house  to  another.  ■  .^  .'; 


^  ■;...•  •    •   *'•.' 

...                                               L.                            i                       .   "    .'      1 

.  1 

t 
'    '     ... 

<   * 

r 

1       ' 

■       •        *             " 

• »  ■ ,, 

i       > 


ITS  ' 


"  / 

/    -"  ■ 

A  Group  opBbaotiks. 


*» 


rv.. 


\        -*^ 


t 


^\ 


CHAPTER    VII. 


■%  . 


\ 


■'.V 


-   % 


Th«  Pretty  Nniu— A  IHq)Iay  of  Oharm»<-The  Wanderer  In  tb«  Oorridors— Bemonw 
— 5fte  GoUty  Superiot^The  Laws  of  M^tqte «'  verenk  "  tbe  Laws  of  Popery— The 
'  Penalty  «f  Crime— A  ibiniaci  Death.  J  " 

',  ->  — .-  •■"  ■     .        ;         ,       ■  * 

IBEPAIBED  to  i^e  Superior's  apartment,  where  I  found 
^     a  pretty  numerous  company  ii;n  nubs,  the  youngest  and 
the  handsomest  in  the  house.    The  rest  had  paid  their  visill 
and'  retired.    I  assure  you,  the  assemblage  presented  a  very 
agreeable  picture.    Conceiye  to  yourself  a  ^roup  of  betwean 
ten  or  twelve  persons,  the  youngest  of  whom  might  be  aboui 
fifteen,  and  tfil  oldest  not  twenty-three  ;  a  Superior  border-- 
ing  upon  forty,  fiiir,  ruddy,  plump,  half-rai^ed  up  in  her  bed, 
with  a  dbuble  chin,  which  became  her  extremely ;  arms 
round  as  if  they  had  been  turned,  fingers  taper  and  inte^;- 
sperse4  with  dimples  ;  two  black  eyes,  large,  lively  and  ten- 
der, seldj^m  quite  open,  but  half-atut,  as  if  she  to  whom 
they  belonged' had  felt  soine  difficulty  m  opening  them  ;  lips 
thdt  displayed  the  vermilion  of  the  rosy*  teeth  white  as 
pearls;  the  most  beautiful  cheeks;  a  very  pleasing  head,  sunk 
in  a  pillow  of  down  ;  hep  arms  extended  cayeliessly  by  her 
sides  ;  and  little  cushions  to  support  ^^  elbows.    I  was 
seated  on  the  e^  of  tte  bed,  doing  nothing ;, another  in  an 
4»m-jjhair^  t^itli  a  ^smftll  enabroidery  frame  upott  her  knee. 


"^K: 


t_:a 


J  ,.-■ 


.  1 


X^ 


■t-  .■ 


f::X 


,X:\- 


■¥ 


1 


„^.  ^r 


Dae  High  Pbelate. 


Otheip,  near  the  windrows,  were  employed  ia  working 
'Sqine  were  seated  on  the  ground,  upon  the  cushions  they 
had.  taken  from  the  chairs,  sewing,  embroidering,  or  spinning 
on  small  wheels.  Some  were  fair,  others  brown  ;  no  one 
resembled  another,  though  all  were  beautiful.  Their  char- 
"actera  were  as  various  as  th^ir  physiognomies.!  Some  were 
serene,  others  sprightly,  others  serious,  sad,  or  melancholy. 
They  were  all  engaged  in  some  khid  of  work  as  I  have?  men- 
tioned, except  myself.  It  was  not  difficult  to  discover  \fho 
were  friends,  who  indifferent,,  and  who  enemies.    The  friends  ^ 

^  were  placed  beside  or  opposite  to  jesach  other.  As  they 
worked  they  talked,  they  consulted  ;  they  looked  by^stealth 

^  at  each  other,  and  pressed  each  others  fingers,  on  pretencd^ 
of  lending  a  needle,  a  pin,  or  thev  sGissors^ji  The  Superior 
surveyed  (hem  all ;  she  blamed  one  for  assiduity^  another 
for  idl^^s  ;  this  fdr  her  indifference,  that  for  her  sadness  j 
she  made  them  bring  her  their  work  j  she  praised  or  blamed  j   " 
she  adjusted  the  head-dress  of  one.     "  That  veil  comes  too 

^  much  forward,  that  cap  encroaches  too  much  upon  the 
face,  it' dole*  not  display  enough  of  your  cheeks.  These 
folds  have  a  bad  effect."    And  npon  all  she  bestowedseither 

' '  slight  reproofs  or  little  endearments.  ,* 

In  this  new  reM^ilfe. fresh  dangers  awaited  me.  Treated* 
mildly,  p^rhap^mB  top  mncb  kindness,  bv  the  Abbess  and 
the  swters,  I  bbffiid  myself  shjeided  by  a  joyful  innocence  ;  ^ 
but  the  rigor,  intji  which  a  high  prelate  shortly  brought 
the  entire  convettt  to  the' st|||jt  flisciplne  of  its  order,'proved 
to  m«  how  much  I  had  beeiictecelved,  ,,  '- '  ' 

^  SojNmtr  Wfij^t  o^^iio  inoriB  at  night.;  «h^  pwjwd 


i 


\ 

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A  Tboubl^  Conscience. 


'in 


whole  weeks  without  goiig  either  to  service,  to  the  choir, 
to  the  dining-room,  or  to  the  hall  of  recrtation  ;  she  lived 
shut  np  in  her  chamber ;  she  wandered  in  the  corridors,  or 
went  down  to  the  church;  she  went  al^out  knocking  at 
the  doors  of  the  nuns,  and  saying  to  the^  in  a  plaintive  ■ 
voice,  "  Sister  such  a  one,  pray  for  me  ;  Sister  such  another, 
jwray  for  me./'  4.  report  spread  that  she, Was  disposed  to 
Qiake  a  general  confession  I  '      1  • 

One  day,  when  I  went  down  fijst  to  tfael  church,  I  saw 
a  piece  of  paper  fixed  to  the  curtail  on  the  rail ;  I  went  and 
read  it :  "  Dear  sisters  !  you  are  invited  to  bray  for  a  nun 
who  has  strayed  from  the  path  of  duty,  an^  who  wishes 
to  return  to  Heaven."  I  was  tempted  to  tear^it,  but  I  let 
it  remain.  Some  days  aftei\ftiere  was  another,  with  the 
following  inscriptign*:  j' Dear'  sist^TI  you  are  desired 
to  implore  the  mercy  of  Heavennpon  a  nun  who  is  senable 
of  her  wanderings — they  are  many."  Another  day  there 
was  another  invitation,:  "  Dear  sisters  I  you  are  entreated 
to  pihiy  Heaven  to  deliver  a  nun  from  despair,  wio  has  lost 

all  confidence  in  the  DivSae  ullrcy." 

,'        ■  -    ■■■■■_.■ 

These  invitations,  in  which  were  painted' the  cruel  vicissi- 
tudes of  a  mind  in  pain,  threw  me  into  a  profound  melan- 
choly. While  I  was  looking  on  one  occasion  upon  some  of 
tl^ese  placards,  I  asked  myself,  what  are  these  wanderings 
with  which  she  reproaches  herself?  What  crimes  can  she 
}i9,y^  committed  ?  I  recollected  the  exclamations  of  the 
director  ;  I  recjdled  his  expressions  ;  I  endeavored  to  find  . 
out  their  meaning,  I  could  not  understand  them  ;  I  became, 
as  it  were,  absorbed.    Some  of  d^  nuns  who  observed  m^ 

V  ■•■  .■     ■    ,.    ,■>    ,.       ^       ■    '-'rv^  .  '"ji      ■■   J  ,  '•  fill.,  J 


'<r- 


The  Young  Benediotime. 


18 


k 


> 

V 


i<V' 


began  to  talk  with  one  another  about  me,  and-if  I  am  not 
mistakeny  they  considered  mo 'as  thr^tened  with  the  same 

r  terrors  with  which,  tne  ^aperion  wa£i  afflicted.    This  poor  ^  r;)^ 
^Superior  never  looked  from  under  iier>eU:  she  took  no  part 
in  the  affairs  of  the  hoiise ;   she  never  spoke  t<^  anybody 
excepting  the  new  director,  with  whom  she  bad  frequent 

„.  interviews ;  he  was  , A  young  Benedictine.  I  know  not 
whether  he  enjomed  all  the  mottifications  which  she  prac^' 
ticed^  she  fasted\three  days  in  the  week,  she  macerated 
herself,  she  heard  service  in  the  inferior  stalls  ;  we  passed 
her  door  in  going  to  church;  tliere  we  wonld  find  her  pros- 
trated, with  her  face  upon  the  ground  ;  she  refused  to  rise 
,  in  any  person's  presence.  At  night  she  went  down  stairs 
biirefooted,  and  in  her  night  dress  ;  if  Sister  Theresa  or 
I  happened  to  mfet  hftf,  eh^  rfiturned,  anri  put  £er  face 
"against  the  wall.  One  day,  on  going  out  of  ray^ell,  I  found  , 
her  prostrate,  with  her  arms  stretched  out,  anther  face 
upon  the  ground  ;  she  said  to  me,  "  Advance,  walk  oyer,|ae, 
tread  upoji  me,  I  deserve  do  better  treatment.'* 

Shortly  after,  in  a  conversation  in  which  all  endeavored 
to  display  themselves  to  the  best  advantage,  and  to  fix  the 
preference  of  the  holy  man  by  every  accoibplishment  they 
possessed,  some  one  was  heard  plo^r^j^to  approach:  at  inters 
'  vals  to  stop,  and  breathe  profound  m^s.  They  listened, , 
they  whispered  to  each  other,  "It  is  she,  it  is  our  Superior;." 
^hey  were  then  silent,  and  sat  down  in  a  circle.  It  was  she 
in  reality.    She  entered.    Her  veil  reached  down  to  her  mid- 

j_  die,  her  arms  were  crossed  upon  her  breast,  and  her  head' 
reclining.    I  was  the  first  whom  she  perceived.    At  this 


M 


K'     r 


-^P?,-^ 


«jfri*^fcr  li 


y  I  t^aea^f^'^ 


\  I 


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■»»'l 


182 


The  Diboovbbt. 


moment,  she  withdii^,  from  under  her  veil^ono  of  her  hands, 
with  which  she  covered  her  eyes,  and  taming  herself  a  little 
to  one  side,  with  the  other  she  made  a  signal  for  ns  all  to 
depart.  We  withdrew  in  silence,  and  she  remained  alone 
with  the  director.  After  all  oar  sisters  had  retired,  I  went 
down  upon  tiptoe,  and  softly  took  my  station'  at  the  parlor 
dipor^  to  overhear  what  was  said.  That  is  very  bad,  you  will 
say.  Oh!  as  for  tji^*,  agreed;  it  is  very  bad,  so  I  said  to 
myself;  and  my  agitation,  the  precaation  I  took  to  avoid 
observation,  the  hesitation  with  which  1  proceeded,  tjPvoice 
of  my  conscicfaeej^which  every  moment  urged  me  to  retarn, 
woald  not  allow  a  doubt  of  it  to  rematai  Curiosity,  however, 
proved  victorious,  and  I  went  on.  But  if  it  was  bad  to  nave 
privily  overheard  4;he  convei^tion  of  two  persona,  who 
believed  themselves  alcme,  is  it  not  stUl  worse  to  repeat  it? 
Here  agam  is  one  of,  those  passages!  which  I  write,  hecMjb  I 
flatter  myself  yotf  will  not  read  it. ,  I  know  that  this  isnot  ftie 
case,  but  I  must,  nevertheless;  endeavor  to  persuade  myself  of 
its. truth.  The  first  ^ord  I  heard,  after  a  considerable  paose, 
made 'me  shudder:  it  was,  "My  father,  I  am  lost."  I  ajptin 
collected  my  spirits.  I  continued  to  listen;  the  veil  Wjiich 
ihithe^o  had  concealed  from  me  the  danger  I  had  undergone 
was  torn  <^.  At  this,  momfent,  I  heaxd  myself  called.  I.. 
was  obliged  to  go;  I  ,retu:ed;  yet,  al^sl  I  had  afr^jiy 
heard  but  too  much.  Vhat  a  woman  I  What  an  abOmJSi- 
able  woman  1  .  '1       ■ 

I  went  to  my  cell,  threw  myself  frantically  upon  my  bed, 
and  wept  copious  tears  Of  agony.  I  noW'  sajUmy  true 
pc^tion^  and  shuddered  at  the  dangers  suri^HR  me. 


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A  Tbbbiblb  Death  €obne. 


188 


The  guilty  Supenqr  bad  Been  me.  Her  ejcdamattos  of  "Mf^^ 
Father,  I  am  lostP'waa  uttered  on  Beeingapa^t  of  my  % 
dress,  as  I  approached  toQf>near  the  door.  She  begged  mo 
to  be  secret,  not  to  betray  her ;  she  loaded  me  with  pro- 
mises. "  Love  is  my  excuse,"  said  she.  "  How  vain  to  think 
these  habits,  our  vows,  our  ceremonials  can  change  our 
mtur^.  No  I"  she  exclaimed  passionately,  "  God  who  has 
imnlanted  in  our  hearts  the  necessity  of  love,  has  also  sanc- 
tiohm  the  fulfillment  of  its  desires.    Sister  -j — ,  I  love 

Fattoer ,  and  do  not  blush  to  pwn  it."    I  could  not  but 

pity  the  Superior,  whilst  I  condemned  her  for  her  weakness 
in  yielding  to  her  criminal  desired.    I  promised  to  be  secret, , 
and  kept  my  word  while  in  the  convent,  to  whicH  m/pro-  « 
mise  was'  limited.    But  the  Superior  was  tortured  with  fear. 
She  doubted  the  sincerity  of  my  purpose  to  preserve  invio- 
late   the    becret  which    I    had   learned.   ^  Her    distress  " 
was    truly   terrible.    She   watched   me    constantly,   and 
^I^ICn^^d  to  be  tortured  with  apprehension  whenever  I  spoke 
to  any  of  the  nuns.    Indeed,  so  dreadful  were  her  fears  of 
discovery  that  her  mind  was  affected,  and  her  hedth  failed 
her.    She  gradually  grew  worse,  mentally  and.  physically, 
and  after  living  several  months  in  this  deplorable  situation, 
she  died.    What  a  frightful  death  1  ^  saw  her,  the  terrible 
pdctnre  of  despair  and  guilt,  in  her  last  moment.    She 
thodght  hferself  surrounded  With  infernal  spirits,  that  waited'-, 
to^  catch  her  soul.    She  exclaimed,-in  ^  toice  almost  suffo- 
cated, "There  they  are  I  see  there  1"    And  oppos|ng^toi  . 
them  dja  the  right  a^d  left  a  crucifix  which  she  held  iii,  her . 
hand,  she  howled,  she  cried,  "  My  G^od  I  my  God  !''  Sirter '-  f 


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,__._  .._ 


mum 


184 


The  Sistee  of  Oharitt. 


Theresa  very  soon  followed  her  ;  and  we 
Superior,  advahced  in  years,  fall  of  ill-na 
stition. 

Bat  before  I  proceed  with  my  own  experience, 
before  the  reader  another  interesting  portion  of  the  old 
papers  of  Sister  U^sola,  which  I  have  preserved  with  so 
maoh  difficalty.  These  remmiscences  had  passed  into  the 
hands  of  a  gentleman  residing  in  Kew  York  city,  who  knew 
the  "  Sister  of  G&arity "  personally,  and  they  are  now  pre- 
sented to  the  public  for  the  first  time.  Some  of  the  original 
manuscripts  are  now  extant,  and  the  editor  has  them  in 
his  possession. 


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185 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A  SISTER  OF  CHAEITT;        i 


OB,-    __- 


RECOLLECTIONS  0^  A  CANADIAN  NUN. 

,  WRITTEN  gy  HERSELF. 


I.'       ■.  ' 

■. 

My  Parentage,  Agf  ,  and  Birth-place,  doubtftil— My  Object  In  writing  these  Hemoira, 

to  save  American  Females  from  Ni^^neries,  and  to  hasten  tiielr  abolishment 

by  Iaw-^}haracter  of  Popish  Priests— Sow  this  Work  was  prepared  about  twenty' 

years  f^go— Its  Authenticity.  •         ;  . 

»  •  '.  ■..''"'  '  ■        * 

I  AM,  probably,  a  native  of  Canada,  and  was  born  in  180^ ' 
or  1810.  But  ;I  have  never  been  able  to  ascertain  the 
place  or  time  of  my  birth  with  absolnte  certainty,  as  several 
persons,  in  whom  I  had  reason  to  place  ho  faith  on  other 
snbjecte,  gave  me,  on  different  occasions,  the  only  informa- 
tion I  ever  received  on  the  subject.         ' 

The  earliest  thing  I  can  remenjber  waa  my  living  with  an 
old  Iddian  woman,  who  was  very  poor,  and  moved^casion- 
ally  with  me  from  place  to  place,  treating  me  with  harshness, 
BO  that  I  regarded  her  with  much  fear,  bnt  knew  not  how  to 
avoid  her,  and  felt  both  helpless  and  friendless.    My  little 


/ 


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33  WIST  MAIN  STRCer 

WIBSTIR,N.Y.  145M 

( 7l«Vil72-4S03 


186 


The  Bl/;k  Nunnery. 


heart,  H  well  remember,  throbbed  with  varions  and  opposite 
emotions  at  different  tuies  :  for  the  old  woman  was  some- 
times kind  and  even  affectionate,  though  often  rough,  rude, 

'  and  even  cruel."  I  have  since  learned  that  such  variable 
cond^t  tannot  reasonably  be  attributed  to  anything  but 
habits  of  occasiondff'intemperance ;  and  I  presume  such 
was  the. fact.  Ho#,  or  at  what  precise  time  I  came  into 
her  power,  or  why  she  kept  me  so  long,  provided  for  me, 
and  often  at  much  Self-denial,  as  I  know  she  did,  I  have 
n^ver  been  able  to  learn,  or  even  to  conjecture.' 

Some  persons  have  told  me  that  I  am  of  Canadian  origin, 
others  that  I  am  of  mingled  American  and  Indian  blood  • 
and  I  have  been  at  different  times  treated  with  the  kind 
ness  of  a  relative  by  individuals  of^various  descent.  How- 
ever, I  am  not  certain  that  I  have  a  single  relative  in  the 

world,  .  ^ 

This,  however,*. is  not  of  chief  importance  to  me;  my 
object  is  to  place  on  record  facts  which  may  be  instructive 
and  useful  to  others,  especiaUy  to  the  people  of  the  United 
States. 

I  have  had  much  acquamtance  with  the  Black  Nunnery, 
or  Hotel  Dieu,  and  the  Grey  Nunnery  of  Montreal ;  and 
they  are  very  different  mstitutions  from  what  strangers 
imagine,  who  make  short  visits  of  curiosity  to  the  few 
apartments  to  which  they  are  admitted.  I  shall  tell  of 
what  I. have  personally  seen  and  known  of  the  interior,  in 
the  course  of  years  in  which  I  was  connected  with  the  nuns 
and  priests,  without  expecting  those  who  are  ^acquainted 
with  me,  very  readily  to  credit  aU  that  I  say ;  I  am  aware 


-.0^ 


0r' 


■"«■ 


Jir-Jjjr- 


.IkCREDULITT    of    4^HEItI0ANS. 


m 


'  that  much  that  I  have  to  commnnicate,  may  Tiave  the  air  of 
improbability  or  of  pure  fiction  to  persons  nnacqnainted  with 
convents,  and  t\e  character,  manners,  and  habits  of  Roman 
"  CathoKc  priests.  But  those  who  have  had  opportunities  to" 
see  and  judge,  will  be  more  inclined  to  read  it  all^  for  they 
Jtnust  find  that  I  tell  some  things'- corresponding  with  their 
own'^ezperience  or  observation.  -I  claim  ta  know  more  than 
nuns  are  commonly  supposed  to  know— viz.,  the  interior  of 
more  than  onfe  convent,  and  to  have  performed  the  part  of  a 
Sister  of  Charity,  some  of  whom  undergo  many  transfor- 
mations, when  the  priests  choose  so  to  order  them. 

I  have  mingled  but  little  with  Protestants,  but  have  been 
surprised  at  the  ignorance  I  have  found  among  thenl  re- 
specting the  priests  and  nuns  of  Canada.  They  seem  to  sup-, 
pose  that  they  must  be  in  many  respects  much  like  other 
people,  making  some  little  allowance  for  circumstances. 
They  say  that,  having  been  brought  up  in  the  Catholic  faith, 
they  must  naturally  believe  what  they  are  taught ;  that 
they  are  doubtless  sincere,  worship  God  in  their  own  way, 
and  are  as  much  to  be  trusted  and  rel|R|^«upon  as  any  peo- 
ple in  general.    If  anything  is  sai^  about  the  doctrikies 
which  they  are  taught,  as  being  rather  un&vorable  to  habits 
of  truth,  freedom  of  opinion,  &c.,  or  of  the  aecresy  of  con- 
vents, it  is  common  to  hear  in  r^ly— that  it  is  denied  by 
respectable  men  that  such  are  their  doctrines  ;  that  intelli- 
gent Catholics  must  see  that  the  opinions  and  ifistitutions 
of  America  are  right  and  good,  and  therefdre  become 
a1||ached  to  them  ;  that  there  are  bad  people  everywhere, 
and  that  it  is  a  ain  to  be  nncharitable.    If  these  facts  an 


/ 


Vi,,\ 


■/^- 


■^"J^^r-w  -^{i^TSf.^ 


«r. 


■    188         Confessions  op  a  Sioteb  op  Charitt. 

appealed  to,  and  I,  or  any  one  else,  sa^s,  "I  hare  seen 
-  such  or  such  things  in  Canada,"  or  so/e  other  part  of  the 
world,  it  is  probable  yon  wiU  hear  in  reply—"!  have  been 
in  Mexico,  or' Cnba,  France,  or  Ireland,  and   they  are 
Catholic  countries,  and  I  found  no  such  thing  in  aU  my 
U  ,tr^els.»    Or,  if  no  other  reply  seems  left,  so  firm  are 
;   many  persons  in  the  beUef  that  all  is  right  in  conyents,  and 
all  pure  ar^  holy  where  priests  and  nuns  are  to  be  found, 
that  they  wiU  exclahn  :  "  Oh,  you  are  fanatical  I    Ton  are 
persecuting  a  mistaken  but  excellent  set  of  people.    I  wiH 
not  beUeve  that  they,  or  anybody  else  can  be  so  bad  1" 

If  you  show  how  convents  and  priests,  and  nuns,  and 
Jesuite,  have  been .  described  as  liiiiforiily  bad  in  different 
countries,  and  at  different  times,  as  is  the  case  so  fer  as  I 
have  known  anything  about  them,  you  are  told  that  there  is 
a  great  deal  to  be  said  on  both  sides,  and  that'it  is  impos- 
'^  Bible  to  come  at  th6  tpith.   '        dj^ 

Now,  such  conversations  I  UmLued  to  more  thim 
once,  and,  as  Isaid  before,  I  haV«  been  much  astonished  to 
find  that  intelligent  people  in^he  United  States  are  very 
ignor^t  of  many  thin^  which  are  perfectly  well-known  to 
persons  of  even  little  general  knowledge  or  education  in 
Canada.    I  therefore  presume,  that  many  wiU  be  ready  to 
condemn  me,^  they  should  never  hear  what  /have  to  say, 
md  that  I  shall  be  regarded  as  wholly  unworthy  of  credit! 
But  I  am  accustomed  to  be  disbeUeved,  and  am  not  to  be 
deterred  by  such  an  apprehension  from  the  task  I  have 
undertaken,  although  there  is  stUl  a  stronger  reason  tlian 
any  I  have  mentioned,  to  lead  me  to  expect  that  Um  not 


i-i^i^ 


\ 


Difficulties  of  my  Casjb. 


189 


be  bdieved.  I  hm  beea  accnstomed  to  deceive.  I  have 
been  trained  to  it,  and  have  pursued  a  l«ng  and  systematic 
course  of  falsehood.  ^     ' 

^  ™«  «»^owaI,  i  am  aware,  will  shock  virtuous  persons 
and  give  them  a  strong  feeling  of  i^ersion  agaipst  me  I 
know  they  will,  be  readrfo-  turn  from  me  ^fe^orror  and 
disgust,  and  yet  I  make  the  confes^On,  I  make  it  voluntarUy 
and  from  choice.  I  feel  no  oblig^on  to  make  it,  except  an 
obhgation  of  my  conscience.'  Perhaps,  it  will  be  thought 
frpm  this,  that  I  have  changed  my  character,  and  now  look  - 
upon  deception  in  a  proper^  light.  It  may  be  thought  that 
one  who  confesses  such  a  sin,  repents  of  it.    This  is  exactly 

my  case  ;  I  do,  indeed,  regard  falsehood  in  a  very  different 
light  from  formerly,  from  that  in  wMch  J  was  taught  to 
regard  it.  '  I  have  therefore  renounced  it,  and  expect  to 
prove  it  by  my  conduct,  and  to  give  evidence  of  my  change 
of  practice,  by  making  known  things  which  wUl  hereafter 
be  found  to,bp  true,  by  satisfactory  evidence,  as  may  in 
future  be  obtained  in  different  ways,  and^om,  perhaps,  many 
sources.     «  \ 

I  am  aware  that  I  labor  under  peculiar  difficulties  at  the      ' 
outset.    I  have  undertaken  to  make  known  a  wicked  and 
dangerous  system,  the  system  of  convents  ;  and  I  am  to  do 
^  by  makmg  known  whit  I  myself  have  se^n  and  heardjk  ' 
then  a  member  of  convents,  or  in  conn^tidn  with  them^W 
The  system  is  one  of  deceit  and  fraud,  and  I  have  had  some 
hand  in  carrying  it  on. .  Of  course,  in  accusing  convents, 
I  accuse  myself  of  being  a  deceiver.    When  charging  nuns    . 
with  imposture,  I  caU  myself  an  impostor. 


•- '  -^ . 


'  \ 


'  x<^  J . 


.4. 


190 


Confessions  of  a  Sisteb  of  Chirttt.      " 


Bat  it  will  be  evident  to  every  mind,  that  the  same 
objection  might  lie  against  any  .witness,  whom  it  would  be 
possible  to  present  against  nnnneries>;  and  that  if  such 
^ond  woold  be  sofficient  for  rejecting  one  witness  unheard, 
and  without  trying  her  testimony  by  the  reasonable  rules  of 
evidence,  it  would  be  equally  proper  to  reject  any  other 
witness  ;  and  then  such  a  society  of  deceiverg  could  never  be 
coEiVicted,  because  their  seclusion  shuts  them  up«from  the 
observation  and  acquaintance  of  ^all,  except  their  own  mem- 
bers. Bui  it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  *'  States'  Evidences " 
are  by  no  means  excluded  from  courts,  but  quite  th6 
contrary.  Their  testimony  is  sought  for,  and  often  proves 
of  great  value,  not  on  its  own  account  alone,  but  when 
satisfactorily  sustained  by  other  and  independent  witnesses. 
I  present  myself,  therefore,  as  an  escaped  nun,  one  who 
has  passed  through  a  variety  of  transformations,  including 
that  of  a  Sister  of  Charity  j  and  declare  that  I  have  facts 
to  communicate,  whith  I  think  important  to  society,  and 
which  it  is  very  difficult  for  the  public  ever  to  know,  partly 
because  of  the  fif#  persons  who  are  ever  at  liberty  to 
publish  them,  seprcely  one  is  ever  to  be  found  who  is  willing 
to  come  out  and  confess  acts  discreditable  to  herself,  and 
r^  especially  to  claim  the  character  of  one  who  has  been  a 
habitual  deceiver. 

I  have  one  more  remark  to  make  before  I  commence  my 
narrative.  I  know  not,  how,  or  by  whom,, my  story  may  be 
brought  before  the  world,  if  it  ever  is.  I  shall  write  it  and 
put  it  in  what  I  hope  vdll  prove  a  place  of  safety.  I  trust 
it  may  fall  into  safe  hands,  and  at  some  future  time  be  pub- 


s 


..*-*■ 


*. 


'jr 


Cautions  TO  Readkrs.  191 

lished  and^e  useful    I  entertain  a  deep  and  impeHsHable 
enmity  against  nnnneries,  becanse  they  hare  been  places  in 
which  I  have  suffered  nnmerona  and  dreadful  wrongs.    Some 
of  ite  inmates  have  been  my  bitter  enemies,  and  I  feel  that  it 
wottld  be  just  if  I  could  bring  them  to  punishment.    It  would 
certamly  1^  a  duty  to  make  them/examples,  to  deter  others 
from  daring  to  perp^tratd  such  crimes  as  theirs,  even  in  th6 
secluded  abod^rof  superstition  and  sin,  where  they  so  long 
kept  me  imprisoned.    If  they  could  be  exposed,  they  would 
not  obtain  more  victims;  and  oh  I  that  I  could  save  some 
of  the  lovely  and  artless  yomig  girls  who  enter  the  Canadian 
nunneries  every  year,  from  the  United  States  as  weU  as  from 
•the  smronnding  countiy  I    If  my  narrative  ever  comes 
before  the  world,  it  wiU  prevent  some  of  them  from  trusting 
ttiemselves  in  the  power  of  such  hypocrit^l  monsters,  for 
It  will  show  something  of  the  impostures  tind  atrocities 
practiced  in  nmineries,  and  give  at  least  some  hints  of  things 
too  shameful  to  be  exposed  in  fuU.    I  have  reqiestei  that 
additions  may  be  made  to  the  chapters  which  I  have  writ- 
ten, by  persons  to  whom  I  have  communicated  andexplained 
Bome  things  which  I  have  not  tipe  or  abiUty  to  write     I 
have  never  been  accustomed  to  composing,  though  I  was 
much  employed,  at  times,  in  the  convent,  in  keeping  certain  , 
accounts,  and  occasidnaUy  in  writing  letters  to  different 
persons  and  places.    WhUe,  therefore,  much  of  the  succeed- 
iDg  narrative  has  b^en  written  by  my  own  hand,  portions  of    '^ 
Of  what   may  accotiipany  my  own   may  be  written  by 
others,  who,  I  trust,  wiU  commit  to  paper  without  error, 
l^  what  I  have  communicated  by  word  of  mouth.    I  wish 


\ 


4i 

i. 


w 


■  i    ■ 

- 


-i- 


192         CoNl-EsaioNs  of  a  Sister  op  Charity..      ;•, 

however,  to  state  that  there  may  possibly  \>e  some  discrep- 
ancy  discoverable  in  tte  book,  if  it  appears  ;  and,  if  such 
should  be  the  case,  my  enemies  will  of  coarse  expose  it,  and 
make  the  worst  of  it,  to  discredit- the  whole  story.    If  I 
coold  read  the  whole  when  written  and  in  fuU,  befgre 
pnbUcation,  I  should  be  wiUing  and  glad  to  challenge  them 
to  prove  even  a  single  word  untrue  :  but  I  shall  never  be 
able  to  see  it  complete,  and  no  person  but  myself  can  have 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with  all  the  numerous  places, 
persons,  dates  and  circumstances,  alluded,  to  in  the  course  of 
my  long  and  varied  history.  I  must  expect  that  some  erroiB, 
and  perhaps  some  evident  discrepancies,  will  be  found  by 
the  shrewd  eye  of  a  guflty  priest,  deeply  interested  in 
discrediting  a  tale,  which  throws  l^on  all  his  tribe  some 
portion  of  the  shame  which  propetty  belongs  to  them.    Let 
ithe  impartial  reader  then,  not  pay  so  much  regard  to  ^e 
first  hue  atd  cry  which  may  be  raised  against  the  Canadian 
Nun,  whenever  she  lifts  her  voi^to  the  people  of  the 
United  States  :  but  let  ^very  per^  read  and  cdnsider  the 
whole  coolly  and  deliberately,  compare  evidence,  and  Usten 
to  fatts  elsewhere  established,  and  then  decide  as  reason 
demands.    The  first  thing  which  priests  attempt,  when 
any  one,  e^j^ecially  a  nun,  begins  to  speak  against  their 
darling  sect^t  retreats,  Hhe  convent,  is  to  stop  the  ears 
of  the  public  by  a  deafening  clamor.     They  cry  false- 
hood I  pequry*  fanaticism,  insanity,  uncharitableness,  insult 
to  the  Holy  Boman  religion  1    &A,  &c.     And   simple- 
minded  people,  who  have  hwn  brought  up  in  the  pure 
Bomiiy  of  a  Protestant  country,  cannot  easUy  beUeve  that 


I2_h. 


/  • 


■ . » ■■■' 


■   i 

Objects  of  This  NAiuumE. 


•^ 

,!>» 


193 
priests  can  be  vicious  and  hypocritical    There  never  was  a 
fugitive  nun  who  complained  of  her  convent,  who  was  not 
reported  to  be  insane~an  escaped  bedlamite  ;  and,  probably 
no  person  ever  undertook  to  expose  the  corruptions  or  the 
.tyranny  of  convents,  who ^.as  not  tempted  to  cease  by 
bribes,  or  threatened  witksome  severe  pum'shment,  to 
terrify  to  silence.    1  shall  n^  fee  deteired  by  any  conside- 
ration,  from  giving  to  the  world  some  of  the  facts  I  have  in 
my  p«ses8ion ;  and  I  wish  t<j  make  them  subservient  to  the 
good  of  mankind  and  society,  and  especiaUy  of  the  virtuous 
of  my  own  sex.    Therefore, 

n  the  Moth^t  a'nd  Daughters  of. America,  tJds  True  ar^ 
'^S'^i^  TaU  is.Dedicated  by  the  Ai^. 


^fit.,. 


•t," 


& 


'4 


"^ 


194         C0KFESS10N8  OP  A  Sister  of  Charity. 


X. 


II.    ^■ 

Bent  to  the  arey  Nunnery  to  Montreal,  when  a  qfmd-Oompaliloni  there-My  F08. 
ter  Brother-A  sketch  of  his  Htatory  and  Amiable  Character -Caughnawaga  ^ 
"Ullage,  anci  Indlani. 

I  WAS  sent  to  Montreal  when  a  gttl,  and  placed  in  the 
school  of  the  Grey  Nuns.  There  a  large  part  of  my 
life  was  spent ;  but  I  left  the  convent  at  different  times,  for 
different  reasons,  as  will  bo  seen  inmy  narrative. 

Among  the  children  with  whom  I  associated  in  the  school 
"^Qf  the  Grey  Nunnery,  was  a  boy,  verj^  nearly  of  my 
own  age,  whose  name  I  need  not  giye.'    He  was  of  a 
pleasant,  kind  disposition,  and  always  a  favorite  with  me, 
as  he  was  one  of  the  few  from  whom  I  received  marks  of 
sincere  friendship,    I  was  always  told  that  we  had  both 
been  baptized  together,  and  had  the  same  godmother ;  and 
of  this  we  occasipnally  reminded  each  other,  feeling  as  if 
they  connected  us;  in  sotne  degree,  like  relatives.    We  were 
schoohnates  and  playmates  for  several  years ;  and  he  dis- 
played,  in  childhood,  the  same  difflnterested  character  and 
friendship  for  me,  which  he  has  ever  since  retained.  He  was 
one.  not  only  of  my  earUest,  but  of  my  best  and  most  faithful 

friends.    .  -      ^ 

He  was  said  to  have  been  bom  at  Caughuawaga, 


1 


t*k, " 


My  Indian  Friend.  195 

an  Indian  village  on  the  sonthem  bank  W  the  St  Lawrence 
opposite  Lachine,  and  about  ten  nOIe^  from  Montreal  Hi^ 
father  was  a  Frenchman  and  hi^  mother  was  the  daughter 
of  a  Frenchman  who  married  a  Bquaw.  Though  Tbelow  the 
middle  size,  he  possessed  polished  manners,  and  a  pleasing 
exterior,  although  his  early  life  was  chiefly  spent  at  his 
native  place,  and  among  the  society  of  the  Indians.  It 
happened,  in  consequence  of  some  peculiar  circumstances 
that  a  tract  pf  land,  of  considerable  value,  was  left,  by  will' 
to  him  jointly  with  myself,  by  a  person  residing,  at  Sauk 
St.  Louis.  «  ,       " 

In  consequence  of  the  contested  title  of  our  land,  in 
the  year  1829,  my  young  frieAd  thought  it  proper)  in 
order  to  secure  our  claim,  to  make  a  visit  to  England  ;  and 
as  he  apprised  me  of  his  intention,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Sir 
— ,  by  authority  of  some  of  the  priests,  which  Ihe  took 
with  him.    He  was  gone  a  long  time,  and,  on  Tiis  retm-n 
informed  me  that  he  had  an  introduction  to  His  Majesty]  ' 
George  IV.,  and  interviews  with  some  less  distinguished 
^^'^lli''^"*  '^'*^®'**  succeeding  in  his  claims.  '  He,  how- 
ever (Mie  home  with  new  ideas  and  several  plans ;  and 
soon  after  his  return,  began  to  show  a  spirit  for  improve- 
ment.    He  marked  out  a  tract  of  land  which  had  been  left 
him  by  hii,  mother,  in  the  viUage  of  Gaughmiwaga,  and 
fenced  it  in  with  a  stdne  wall.    His  neighbors,  the  Indians,   . 
immediately  began  to  regard  hun  with  Jealousy  and  dislike, 
because  they  are  confirmed  in  their  hereditary  habito,  and 
opposed  to  any  change,  especially  to  anything  like  civilizar 
tion.    Their  land,  even  around  and  within  the  village,  had 


m 

L  I 


'.    * 


A_A. 


,'t  ':^H 


^-■•^ 


>"..■    "*" 


Confessions  of  a  Sistkb  of  ChaAitt.- 


\196 

iever  been  enclo8ed.for  cultivation;  and  they  werp  rcsolred  • 
Lt  it  never  should  be.     When,   therefore,  the  youn^ 
tiaveUet  began  to  build  a  second  wall,  a  numbBr  of  ijie 
lAdian^  assembled  oh  the\spot  (me  evening,  and,  on  his 

seidefence.  he  wounded  one  o!  them  with  a  stong,  m  hi^ 
stoUach,  which  it  was  supi^e^  caused  liis  deatB  the  n^:^ 
daX   This,  however,  was  doubtful,  as  the  man  Was  wel|  ^ 
enolgh  to  go  out  in  a  boat  the  morning  ^r,  when  he      \ 
exefted  himself  very  much  in  rowing,  and  took  e<>^d.  ^ 

.     A  prosecution  was  commenced  against  my  friend  j  but 
fearing  that  the  Indians,  according  to  their  practice,,  would 
kiU  him  without  waiting  for  its  decision,  he  first  took  refuge 
in  the  churc^i,  then,  for  a  time,  in  a  private  retreat,  wMch  I 
/could  ^how   in  the   Nnimery  (as  many  fugitives   have 
/done  bkore  and  since),  and  afterwards  crossed  the  boundary 
into  the  United  States,  und  spent  about  eight  months  in 
Albany  and  Brooklyn.    His  trial  had  a  favorable  isstie, 
after  wjiich  he  returned  to  Caiiada  ;  and,  having  no  further 
apptehensidiis  from  his  couflSktymen,  he  prosecuted  plans 
of   improvement,  with  spirit^  He   has   now  an  expen- 
^ve  and  elegant  Wp,  well  furnished,  and  adonledwith 
taste,  where  I  have  visited  hun  more  than  imce,  and  where 
I  have  always  found  a  welcome,  for  old  acquamtance  sake. 
He  hai  in  » parlor  a  painting  of  the  baptism  of  John  the 
Baptist,  and  ankher  of  a  different  subject,  also  a  fine  one  ; 
,  and  on  the  top  of  the  house  is  an  observatory,  with  teles- 
copes, through  which  he  can  not  only  see  Montreal,  butlead 
some  of  the  Eiigns  upon  theJbooses.       .  ^     *  .       / 


> 


4 


/'=-!> 


f  ^'^V';-rjT.>r^  ' 


-N" 


.  't 


i 

A  Jksdit  Mission.    , 


I9t 


I  mention  these  particulars,  to^ivo  ft  dearer  idea  of  the 
nteacs  which  were  at  the  commond  of  qpe  of  my  best  friends, 
and  lo  show  how  he  was  enabled  to  render,  mo  important 
assistance,  when  aid  was- necessary.  Snch  arrniyoWigft* 
tfons^to  hfe  krndness,  that  I^  can  never  lose' a  lively  and 
gBeatelfll  sense  of  his  kindness  ;*  and  my  gratitude  is  the 
Stronger,  because  I  know^  that  on  his  return  from  abroad, 
mthalarge^estato  at  his  command^  and  with  a  disposition 
to  rise  above  his  former  habits,  tfnd  some  of  his  former  com- 
panions, he  did  not  forget  the  friends  of  his  Ifedhood. 

The  village  of  Caug^awoga*  is  as  diflfer»nttrom  the  coun- 
try. town»  which  I  hftve  seen  in  the  tJnited  States,  as  it  is 
possible  to  imagine.  I  may  give  <i  futui^  description  of  it,  ''' 
■ftnd  of  some  of  its  inhabitants,  and  occurrences  there,  and' 
leave  others  to  make  coniparisons  for  themselves.  I  had 
occasion  to  visit  the  place  now  and  then;  and  I  presume 
even  the  circumstances  wjiich  I  may  touch  upon  wiU  bear 
witness  to  my  famil^rity  with  the  pecuUar  state  of  tl^ngs 
in  that  Indian  village.  .        ' 

Caughnawaga  stands  Qn  ^he  southern  bank  of  the  river 
St.  Lawrence;  a  few  miles  above  Montreal.  Seen  from  i\e  '■' 
river,  on  the  opp<^ite  shore,  nothing  is  visible  except  the 
'  spire  of  a  small  stone  church,  »  long  and  high  wall  which 
encloses  the  priest's  house,  and  a  square  piece  of  ground, 
and  a  cluster  of  miserable,  hovels,  the  habitations  of  the 
remnant  of  the  p0or  and  degraded  Indian  tribe,  whose  name 
belpngs  to  the  p(ace.       ,.  .     .      ^         .. 

•  Noil  BT  m  Eiin^  :-There  la  a  ati^g  jrefletabbuwe  In  most  of  the  Jemit 
aimiapttx  tIUhm,  imong  UTage  natloiu  in  dUhrent  p«%of  the  world,    the 


^ 


it  *,  i 


ni    ; 

-1  ' 

'^  > 

•■.] 

'"♦■''- 

■    k 

-    ■'/  " 

■r 

>■  ■ 

.  a  ,■ 

'  ■  1  i 

^^ 

^ 

:/ 

^^H 

r— 

*    -.  - 

■  •     ■        ";'" 

- 

— r~J 

X 


^  • 


198        Confessions  of  a  Sister  oii^  Ghabitt. 

priesta  are  cureM  to  baild  a  sqbitantlal  /edifice,  uniisrt^e  Daii|ie  of  a  cborcb,  wblcb 
inelades  or  ti  connected  with  dwellings  for'  themaelTeg,  and  such  other  compart- 
menta  as  they  please  to  reqoVe.  A  piece  of  ground  is  often  enclosed  by  a  high  stone 
Tall,  apparently  for  a  garden ;  and  sometimes  cnlUTated  as  such ;  but,  to  the  eytef 
a  topographer,  or-evon  a  mere  man  of  obserration,  the  whole  presents  the  aspect 
of  well-planned  fort  or  place  of  defence.  .  The  entrances  are  commonly  few  and 
narrow,  so  placed,  as  to  be  easily  closed  up  or  defended ;  and  the  walls  are  thick 
and  strong  enough  to  form  a  good  defe^e  against  any  force  which  the  people  might 
be  able  to  brin|^against  it,  in  case  of  their  becoming  hostile.    The  system  adopted 
by  the  priests  of  Bpme,  in  their  treatment  of  rude  nations,  to  whom  they  pretend 
to  conTcy  Chrlatianity,  is  one  of  moral  subiugaaon.    They  reduce  them  to  a  tirtnal 
tasslalage,  and  neTer  allow  them  to  D^e  beyoqd:"a  certain  point  towards  ^iTillia- 
{lon,  withhdding  firom  t^em  real  kli«lRedge;iii|fiBGiaUy  the  knowledge  of  the  word 
of  Ch>d,  and'inrfeilibg^heiii  withmeraUtious,  fs^lcal,  and  idolatrous  ideas.*  At 
the  same  Ume,  they  inspire  them  with  an  aliject  reverence  and  fear  towards  them- 
selTes,  claiming  to  be  clothe^  with  superhoman  anthority  and  power,  and  keeping 
them  as  their  bond  slaTes,  to  work  for  tbeir^^niary  profit.     They  seem  to 
expect  to  arouse  the  poor  natives  to  violence  and  rebellion,  even  before  they  begin 
^to  preach  to  them  the  false  Ohristlaliity  which  they  go  U>  propagate,  for  their  own 
interest    This  is  shown  by  their  constructing  such  places  of.defence  for  themselVM 
while  they  leave  the  sheep  of  their  flocks  outside  of  their  strong  and  lofty  walls, 
nnprotected  flrom  any  enemy  that  may  ass^  firom  without.    The  difference  between 
the  popish  missionaries  and  others  in  these  points,  need  not  be  here  described. 
Canghnawaga  is  a  good  specimen  of  the  miasibns  of  the  Jesuits. 


V- 


^v» 


Vxf-. 


I      I 


My  Rkpdtbd  Grandmother. 


199 


III. 


Left  the  Grey  Nunnc^  a  Residence  in  the  Country-Treatment  there-InslW 
•  tioi>«  recelTed-RetiiJIo  the  Conrent-Become  a  Teacher-My  Pupila. 

AT  a  village  in  Tipper  Canada  were  a  family  said  to  be 
distant  relations  of  my  own,  which  had  removed 
thither  in  the  year  1800.    The  mother  had  a  number  of  sons, 
but  much  to  her  disappointment,  no  daughter.    The  first 
I  knew  of  them  was  from  a  claim  she  made  for  me,  a^t^ 
convent,  as  her  grand-daughter.    The  Superior,  to' Shorn 
she  appUed,  told  her  she  would  refer  the  matter  to  the 
Bishop,  and  be  guided  by  his  decision.    I  waa-^terwards 
informed  that  he  decided  that  she  should  be  gnt^fied,  an^/ 
that  she  agrfeed  to  pay  a  sum  of  money,  in  ann^alpaymenS^ 
for  Ijhe  favor  granted.  ^  This  I  have  on  hearsay.  I  was  given 
^  to  her,  and  left  Montreal  in  her  company.    I  never 
learned  what  relationship  was  supposed  to  exist  between  us, 
but  the  woman  treated  me  as  well  as  if  I  had  been  indeed 
her  grand-daughter.    I  profited  %  her  instructions,  learned 
not  only  to  speak  fluently  in  English,  but  to  read  and  write 
pretty  readily.    She  taught  me  also  several  songs,  which  I 
was  fond  of  ^ging ;  particularly  I  remember  to  this  day 
one  called  the  ^^  Cruel  Mother's  Tragedy,"  and  another 
entitled  the  ":M^or'fl  Only  Son."    My  grandmother  took 


200 


My  Pupils. 


much  pleasure  in  hearing  me  sing  them,  after  I  had  snccised- 
ed  in  learning  them.  Her  house  was  in  a  pleasant  place, 
with  a  trout  brook  running  near.  "      \' 

vl  spent  a  year  and  a  half  at  that  place  With  iny  kind 
friend,  but,  in  the  meantime,  her  husband  died ;  when  the 
priest  sent  for  theinoney  a^eed  on,  she  said  she  could  not 
pay  until  the  settlement  of  the  estate.  Befo|re  this  was 
accompHshed,  however,  she  died  of  a  fever ;  ajid  then  her 
eldest  son  refused  to  acknowledge  the  contract,  and  said  he 
had  no  wish  to  have  me  remain  in  the  family.  Il  was,  there- 
fore sent  for  to  return  to  the  convent,  and  often  amused  the 
priests  in' their  hours  of  jollity,  by  singing  my  iiew  songs. 

As  there  were  no  other  children  in  tbe  convJent  who  knew 
anything,  of  English,  I  boasted  much  of  my  ^uperior  know- 
ledge and  accomplishments,  and  was  proud,  and  "  as  bold 
as  a  pagan  idol.*'  The  Superior  took  much joffence  at  this, 
ana  by  way  of  penance,  directed  that  I  should  stand  upon  a 
'  stool  every  day,  and  read  and  speU  English  |o  every  person 
who  visited  the  convent.  |  ^ 

Being  now  thought  capable  and  large  enough,  I  was  set  to 
teach  some  of  the  small  children  in  the  Grejr  Nunnery,  and 
numbers  of  young  women  a^  now  living,j  who  can  bear 
witness  to  this  fact.  Among  tho^  whom  |I  instructed  in 
English  were  Olivette  Gaspe  (a  very  swfeetjchild,  and  my 
favorite),  Betsey  Mount,  daughter  of  Dr.  M|)u^of^  Pointe 
CUire,  Margarite  Gasp6,  of  Sault  St.  Ldgis,  kary  ll»nand 
Marg«et  Laflainme,  of  Lachine,  Lizette  ipabineau— (W 
.  father  died  of  the  cholera  the  second  year,  tlie  oldest  lawyer 
inthedty).    ClotUde  Hughes  was  another  of  my  pupils. 


■/fom^rrf  '  .■.^K^.;«^yp^;>,»ii^»yVi»<w^|W 


•%"'■' 


Life  ,  of  Xdns. 


201 


There  were  other  girls  whose  clothes  were  kept  In  No.  2  ; 

hut  only  these  were  under  ^y  instraction.    I  tonght  them 

English,  spelling,  writing,  and  sewing. 
As  I  grew  up  I  became  more  and  naore  intimate  with  the 

life  of  nuns,  and  passed  through  many  scenes  which  might 

interest  a  reader,  especially  if  given  at  length  and  in  order, 

with  explanations  sufficient  to  iftake  everything  intelligible. 

But  I  shaU  not  attempt  anything  more  than  to  notice  a  few 
single  scenes  and  incidents  which  occurred  at  different 
periods,  in  connection  with  the  two  nunneries  in  which  I 
spent  mo9t  of  my  life,  without  attempting  to  show,  in  full, 
their  courses.5pr  arelations,  which  would  require  more  time 
than  I  have  at  my  command,  before  my  intended  departure 
to  a  distant  and  quiet  retreat. 


9* 


'f..- 


202 


Delusions. 


.<*.  ■. 


>•' 


IV. 


Trlalsof  aKun's  Llfi-In  iU-health-Went  to  the  Bt  Frwd.'.  I«di«x  VUlage-A 
Wpd  old  Bqu»W-*iy  Occupattons  there-Kxpoaure  In  the  Forert. 

THE  life  of  a  nun  is  necessarUy  subject  to  many  painful 
trials,  and  debarred  from  many  enjoyments.    Indeed, 
to  a  female  educated  in  American  society,  it  rfust  be  miser- 
able in  the  extreme.    While  the  delusion  lasts  vhich  brings 
the  young  into  conyents,  there  tiiay  be  a  species  of  ill-founded    , 
enjoyment,  for  the  credulous  girl  believes  that  everything  is 
whatit  appears  tobe.    The  Superior  a  samt,  the  "sisters" 
striving  to  approach  perfection,  the  Bishop,  who  bears  the 
title  of  ♦•  My  Lord,"  and  receives  the  humble  reverence  of 
all,  is  supposed  to  bear  divine  authority,  and  aU  the  inmates  t 
and  the  place  itself,  are  regarded  as  pure  and  holy.    She 
beUeves  that  religion  consists  in  self-deniirf,  the  opposition 
and  mortification  of  the  feelings,  and  that  the  way  to  secure 
the  favor  of  God  and  everlasting  salvation,  is  to  f enounce 
parents,  home,  friends,  acquaintances,  property,  and  pros- 
pects.    Hiving  done  all  this,  and  taken  a  step^which  they; 
consider  as  not  to  be  retraced,  with  the  convent  doors 
locked  behind  them,  they  foncy  th?  object  served,  and  what-  / 
ever  attractions  the  world  may  have  had,  they  are  regarded 


^Ai^- 


•'? 


■.y^mrr' 


Crafty  Jesdits.  2O8 

with  SMpicion  and  fear,  being  tanght  that  even  the  most 
^     harmless  are  dangerous  and  fatal,  and  that  every  desire  for 
^  them  is  sinfal.    In  the^r  imagmation,  they  have  painted  the 
occupations  of  the  nunnery  as  holy,  nncontaminated  by  any 
'   '    taint  of  earth.    If  they  have  had  any  bitter  experience  in 
life,  If  any  disappointment,  suffering,  or  sorrow  has  faUen  to 
their  lot  (as  is  the  case  with  many  even  of  the  young),  or 
If,  as  18  perhaps  quite  as  common,  they  have  privately  become 
deeply  impressed  with  the  nnsatisfactory  notion  of  wordly 
eiyoyments,  their  brief  duration,  or  doubtful  issue,  they  are 
m  a  state  of  mind  exposed  to  the  influence  of  the  crafty  and 
hypocritical  priest  or  Jesuit,  Who  stands  behind  the  nun  or 
teacher,  and  nndertheir  direction  may  be  convinced  that  it 
IS  a  duty  to  do  things  which  efen  common  sense  or  natnral 
hamanity  would  condemn. 

I  was  once  very  ill,  and  after  bemg  some  time  under  the 
care  of  snch  physicians  as  they  had  at  the  Hotel  Diea  and 
Nun's  Island,  it  was  determmed  tltet  I  should  go  to  the  St 
Francis  Indians,  which  I  had  desired  and^equested.    This 
was  partly  because  a  certain  Indian  was  to  have  a  trial  or 
examination,  in  relation  to  some  busmess  with  which  I  was 
acquainted,  and  he  had  desired  that  I  would  act  as  his  inter- 
preter,  as  he  could  not  speak  English,  and  knew  no  person 
who  spoke  Indian,  m  whom  he  confided.    I  felt  that  I  should 
be  obhged  to  bear  witness  against  him,  from  consdentious- 
motives,  and  wisbmg  to  be  absent  from  Montreal  at  that 
time,  to  avoid  the  necessity,  I  was  glad  to  make  a  visit  to   . 
the  St.  Francis  Indians,  under  the  plea  of  consultmg  some 
of  their  old  women,  with  whom  I  was  acquainted.    I  there- 


,  *'"  I 


204 


Indians. 


fore,  having  obtained  permissipn;  went  With  a  companion^   , 
:  and  found  a  very  kind  reception,  and  received  every  atten-      • 

tion.  1 

My  most  particular  friend,  a  poor  old  s^uaw,  said  to  me, 

"^  "You  have  been  very  much  ill-treated.  The  priests  ought 
to  be  ashamed  ^  conduct  themselves  as  they  do.  T!hej 
never  ought  to  have  the  care  of  young  women.    Many  of 

-  those  shut  in  nunneries  lose  their  health,  and  many  die  early. 

Stay  with  md,  and  I  will  take  good  care  of  you;  but  you 
must  wear  our  dress,  because  everybody  will  know  you  for  a 
nun  if  you  do  not,  and  many  here  dislike  nuns.    She  accord- 
ingly  made  me  dress  like  an  Algonquin  squaw,  and  I  spent 
about  six  months  with  her.    She  was  a  great  friend  of  the 
priests,  and  believed  all  they  told  her  about  their  power  and. 
authority,  but  not  much  of  their  holiness.    They  occasionally 
isent  Bick  nuns  to  her  to  be  nursed,  and  paid  her  for  it.    It 
was  her  support.    Some  of  them  called  at  her  hut  every  few 
days,  BO  that  I  had  news  from  the  convent  as  often  as  once 
a  week,  and  learrfed  how  things  went  on.    I  could  sing  with 
tiie  Indians,  and  became  a  general  favorite.    TheycaUedme 
Caronyohaxa.    There  was  often  some  excitement  in  the  vil- 
lage, for  the  squaws  often  quarrelled,  and  were  very  violent 
againstea^other.butfoujjhtonlywiththeirtengues.    They 
sometimes  fell  into  most  furiousfitsofpassion,  but  never  struck 
each  other.    I  have  sometimes  seen  them  throw  themselves 
upon  the  gromid,  and  beat  it  with  their  feet  and  hands,  and 

sometimes  with  their  heads. 

Some  of  the  pleasant  hours  of  my  time  were  spent  in  hear- 
ing the  old  squaw  narrate  long  Btories  about  the  St.  Framas 


i 


/ 


Lost  ik  tpb  Woods. 


205 


^ 


Indians,  the  Algonquins,  and  the  Iroquois,  which  s  e  some- 
times did  in  English,  as/  she  spoke  that  language  freely.  My 
enjoyment  at  that  time  was  partly  owing  to  the  agreeable 
recollections  of  my  childhood,  when  I  associated  much  with 
Indian  children.  When  I  was  young,  I  loved  the  little 
'  squaws;  they  were  my  youthful. love,  and  I  can  neyer  forget 
their  red  faces.  An  Indian  always  looks  good  to  me,  and 
.   always  will.    I  cannot"  forget  my  young  friends. 

The  old  squaw,  Jiowever,  was  not  now  quite  so  careful  of 
me  as  formerly.  She  told  me  one  day  that  I  must  go  With 
her  into  the  woods,  to  gather  some  hwbs.  We  therefore  set 
oflf  with  her  Uttle  French  cart  w^gosatm,  and  rodq  six  or 
seven  mUes  to  a  dark  forest,  where  she  made  a  stop  with  the 
wagon,  tied  the  horse  with  a  long  rope,  and  leaving  me  to 
watch  him,  walked  away,  soon  disappearing  under  the  trees. 
There  I  remdned,  anxiously  awaitiq^  her  return.  But  hour 
passed  after  hour,  it  began  to  rain  vioh&itly,  and  finallyeven- 
ing  came  on,  without  any  j^peaAnce  of  her.       ' 

Having  discovered  a  house  at  no  great  distance,  I  went 
and  asked  them  to  let  me  in,  but  they  refused,  saying  I  was  a 
squaw.  The  Indians,  they  told  me,  had  donl  them  injiury, 
and  they  would  not  suflfer  a  squaw  to  Uve,  if  \hey  hSdTtfieir 
own  way.  Had  they  the  power,  they  would  shoot  ev^ry 
Indian.  I  therefore  returned  to  the  cart,  and  sat  down  under 
it,  that  being  the  only  place  I  could  find.  It  continued  to  rain 
a  long  time  J  I  was  v«ry  wet,  and  thought  I  should  die.  At 
length  the  moon  rose,  so  that  I  had  some  light,  which  was  a 
considerable  reUef  after  the  long  time  I  had  spent  in  the  dark- 
ness.   But  I  had  yet  to  remidn  in  that  lonely  and  nncomfort- 


206 


Thk  Drunken  Squaw. 


able  position  untU  morning,  and  it  was  not  before  ten  o'clo^ 
in  the  forenoon  that  the  old  woman  made  her  appearance. 

She  said  little,  gave  no  account  of  herself,  and  expressed 
no  regret,  but,  untying  the  horse,  and  mounting  the  cart 
with  me,  drove  rapidly  home  over  the  road  we  had  passed 
the  previous  day.  My  blanket,  which  was  very  thick,  was 
thoroughly  wet,  and  I  was  completely  chiUed.  I  took  a  cold 
which  brought  on  a  sickness  that  left  its  effect  a  long  time; 
*•  indeed,  I  think  I  have  never  yet  entirely  recovered  from  it. 
Thus,  instead  of  being  restored  to  health  by  my  residence  with 
the  St.  Francis  Indians,  through  a  single  instance  of  neglect 
I  was  seriously  and  Almc^t  fatally  injured. 

Some  of  the  pfiests  soon  after  paid  their  customary  visit 
to  the  old  wonittja^  iuid,  on  seeing  me  s6  feeble,  inquired  the 
cause.  She  affected  great  concern,  and  said  she  was  not  able 
to  account  for  my  iUness  satisfactorily,  but  thought  it  must 
have  been  produced  by  drinking  too  much  cold  water.  I 
had  her  in  too  much  dread  to  venture  to  deny  it,  for  fear  she 
would  kill  me,  which  I  think  she  would  have  done,  in  a  fit  of 
passion,  as  readily  as  she  would  a  snake,  for  in  her  heart  she 
had  a  bitter  antipathy  to  people  of  white  blood. 

I  found,  ere  long,  that  she  was  addicted  to  occasional  fits 
of  intoxication;  and  then  she  was  so  violent,  and  even  fiirious, 
that  I  was  obliged  to  go  into  another  room  and  festen  the 
door,  and  stay  alone  until  she  got  over  her  fiiry.  She  would 
come  to  the  door,  and  cry  to  me  to  forgive  her,  and  beg  me 
not  to  tell  the  priests,  even  falling  <m  her  knees,  and  suppU- 
cating  in  the  most  earnest  and  humble  terms,  exdaiming, 
"  Oh,  you  won't,  will  you  ?  I  wjll  never  hurt  you."   I  always 


...-*-if  v:"'.^     •'. 


Bbt&rn  to  thb  Nunnery. 


20t 


promised  as  she  desired;  and  then  she  would  tw^t  me  with 
all  the  kmdness  of  a  mother  for  three  or  four  days.  Then 
she*  would  begm  to.  appear  sullen  and  discontented  with 
eyerything,  which  would  usually  continue  two  or  three  days, 
after  which  she  was  seized  with  a  voracious  appetite,  and 
ate  enough  to  kill  two  white  men;  then  lying  down,  she 
would  sleep  profoundly  for  about  twenty-four  hours.  When 
she  awoke,  she  seemed  calm,  composed  and  in  good  heidth 
and  spirits,  and  would  conduct  as  rationally  as  other  people, 
until  she  began  to  drink  liquor  again,  which  usually  was  as 
soon  as  she  could  get  it,  and  then  she  passed  through  the 
same  ^eer  once  more. 

I  became  so  weary  of  such  scenes,  and  indeed  apprehen- 
sire  that  they  would  result,  first  or  last,  in  some  serious 
injury  to  me,  or  even,  perhaps,  in  my  death,  that  I  was  not 
sorry  to  leave  the  place  at  tiie  first  opportunity.  After  a 
few  incidents  which  it  is  not  important  to  mention  here,  I 
found  myself  again  in  Montreal,  and  engaged  dnce  more  in 
the  nunnery.  u 


t\- 


I 


t; 


*V 


m 


208 


CONFESSlONa    OF    A   SlSTM   0»    ChIBIIT. 


>/  •  'V. 

m 

Btr»p««  KrenU-fianday  Occnpatlon.  in  OonTWt»-Drnnken  Prietto-Prelendea 

lUirwdok 

SOME  very'  singular  occurrences  took  place  in  the  Grey 
Convent:  several  years  ago,  albout  whict  I  wUl  not 
attempt  to^ake  full  explanations.    The  results  to  me  were 
of  some  importance,  and  the  case  wUl  illustrate  sosd^  of  the 
many  ways  in  which  the  convents  often  have  uitercourse  with 
society  around  them.    It  will  be  ^en,  from  this  and  other 
cases  which  I  might  greatly  multiply,  that  the  secluded 
'      character  of  nunneries  is  often  used  foVtbe  purpose,  not  of 
shutting  out  the  influence  of  the  world>^  rather  to  shut 
up  in  secresy  those  who  plot  against  the  pfeoQe  and  happi- 
ness of  the  world,  and  for  excluding  the*  world  from' a 
proper  and  rightful  superintendence  and  control  of  its  own 
business.    In  sfort,  uudet  pretence  of  securing  a  Uttle 

-         dom#  for  holjf  purposes,  free  firoip  the  intrusion  of  human, 
passions  and  <irimes,  convents  actuftBy  are  the  places  of 

'         refuge  fo^th^  wicked  and  vicious,  whence  they  can  issue  to 

priey  upon  sodety.      ^  ,    _, ^— -^ — 

The  occupations  of  the  nuns  and  priests  in  tto  convent  on^ 

Sundays  were  such  as.would  hardly  be  thought  possible  by 
-  people  in  the  States.    I  shaE  not  mention  or  even  hint  at 


p 


\ 


■■"  \ji3t;;3i»-«.-  'i:"-"^" : 


Frusts'  Sabbatos. 


209 


son^e,  which  decency  will  forbid.    I  will  say,  however,  that 
after  the  ceremonies  of  the  day  were  over,  and  also  between 
them,  the  nuns  were  allowed  to  amoso  themselves   with 
games  of  chance.    The  priests  usaalljr  spent  the  afternoon 
in  gambling  and  drmking  beer  and  wine.    There  was  a  nun 
of  a  very  singular  disposition,  in.  the  H6tel  Dieu,  fond  of 
jokes  and  trjcks,  who  in  different  ways  made  a  good  deal  of 
disturbance,  frequently  without  letting  it  be  known  how  it 
was  brought  about.    She  had  a  great  antipathy  to  the 
.  prie8t8,|especially  to  some,  who  I  believe  had  ill  treated  her. 
She  caQielo  me  one  day  while  I  was  employed  as  a  nurse,  to 
get  a  large  dose  of  jalap  ;  and  told  me  confidentially  that 
she  was  going  to  put  it  int6  the  first  mug  of  beer  which  she 
should  draw  for  D.  and  S.    They  had  put  a  severe  penance 
upon  her  at  the  secret  instigation  of  the  Superior,  and  she* 
Would  be  revenged.    I  had  no  predilection  for  those  obnox- ' 
ious  piriests,  a^d  procured  her  the  drug,  which  she  took  with 
her.    On  the  following  Sunday  she  came  running. to  me  in 
the  sick  room,  and  told  me  to  follow  her  if  I  wished  to  see 
S.  in  a  pretty  plight.    She  led  me  to  the  community-room, 
and  there  was  the  poor  priest  under  the  effects  of  a  terrible 
emetic,  to  her  most  sincere,  though  disguised,  gratification. 
I  shall  now  relate  what  I  saw  and  heard  of  the  pfiests' 
acts  and  conversation  in  a  few  instances.    And  first,  a 
specimen  of  the  amusements  of  two  priests  in  a  state  of 
intoxication. :  : i-   j__^ ^__     _: ^^ : 

Once  I  saw  two  priests,  quite  tipsy,  make  »  be't  about  two 
insects,  which  could  run  the  fastest  (one  bet  five  and  the 
other  ten  doUars),  onp  on  a  hot  plate,  and  the  othe/on  a 


•?*" 


SIO.        CoHTMBioN.  or  A  Bmw  of  Caam. 

cbld  00..    The  oj.  0,;  the  cold  plat,  .took  f«t,  .ad  ih. 
00.  00  th.  hot  plft.  r«»  «ro»  it.    Tho  oo.  who  lort  hy4 

to  pay  tho  too  dollar..  :  x^^  ..   c  J 

To  .how  how  th.  pricU  »riao  th.  %ibb.ft,-» , 
womao  of  my  acqoalotahc,  whil.  at  St.  »*^Jif "'"' 
sU«  at  000  tin..  h.pp.«ed.to  daoo.  oo  *»''-^^^T 
th.  pri»t  pot  a  ,.ry  ..v.ro  p.naoeo  oo  ^-^^'f^^ 
sh.  dao«d  oo'  a  Booday,  aod  th.  prlo.t  f  »«'*■* 
worth  pottiog  a  p.oaoco  «u  h.r  at  all.  a.  h.  thought  that 
Sooday  did  oot  o..d  to  b.  obs.rv«J  a.  stro:tly  »  ^'h-Wod- 
oosday     i  wi.h  to  tofono  my  t.ad.r.  how  th.  Cathoh»  ^ 

'  th.  c<Mi»y  pi*""  m  «><"»  P^"'"  '"  eoofoMioo.  Ijaclv 
uJrL  to  giv.  for  .aoh  aor.  of  laod  that  h.  owo.  a 
crtaio  oomWr  of  bod..ls,«t  wh»t,  p««.  '«'«  !«»«*«'• 

■'  About  Christmas  tlm.,  also,  th.  priMt  of  .«=h  Patu.h  go. 
aboot  b.ggm»&r  th.  chUd  J«o.,  as  th.y  call  him  ,  aod  ^ 

^  ««h  hop*  th.y  visit.  th.y  .xpoet  to  b.  wdl  troatrf  with 

wio.  aod  biacult.  *  •  .,  ,i,„ 

Oo.  day  io  L.ot  thr»  pri..ts  cam.  to  dm.  at  th. 

oooo^,  aod  ask.d  m.  V^|gto4for  dioo«.    I  toU  ft- 

th.-Sop«ior.  to  ask  iMW^V..  aoy  P^-"^-    * 
Sopc^iortold  m.  to  toll  th.m  .h.  had  two  «o.  dock..    Th.y 
fid  m.  to  har.  th.m  brought  to  thm  i  th.y  would  torn 
them  ioto  fish.    I  brought  th.m  bdoJ.  they  w«.  P«*«l,  • 
and  th.y  imm«K«tdy  crossrf  th.m  oo  «tch  of  thdr  jomte 
Kyiogthatww  doo»  io  «rd«  to  driy.  ^^'^^^'^ 
th«B, » th.y  B?id  m»t  «f&  poultry  w.r.  possMsed  of  the 
doTil  duriog  Loit  on  Fridays. 


r^'^rwS   t 


ii 

*     FOBOU)   JdlRAOUW. 


A 


211 


•  ^- 


at  the            ■ 

id  them           B 

1 

(riieto        /■ 

r.    i:he      .'  1 

'\ 

They           fl 

s        • 

lid  turn           | 

f 

picked, .         ■ 

•• 

F  joints,           ■ 

—  ■r 

out  of        ,  1 

d  of  the          ■ 

'"■^.•:  • 

,  buQ  day  at.commanioii  I  happened  to  (kop  th«  wafer  oa 
the  ground,  and  the  priest  ordered  me  to  lick  it  op,  which 
I  did.    After  mass,  ho  requested  me  also  to  put  a  pin  in 
the  spot  where-  it  had  dropped  ;  and,  before  vespers,  he 
went  and  cot  the  piece  out  of  the  carpet,  and  burned  it  tf 
ashes  in  a  plate,  buried  the  ashes  under  the  ftHar,  and  he 
told  mo  I  was  as  guilty  as  any  of  the  mjirderers  of  Jesoi 
Christ,  aud  that  I  had  trampled  on  oar^Tijrar.  ^  He  told 
mo  further  that  once  a  woman,  on  receiving  Sacrament, 
let  the  wafer. drop,  and  did  not  inform  the  Priest  of  It7 
^ut  let  it  remain  without  picking  it  up,  the  devil  having 
teinpted  her  to  do  bo.    After  mass,  when  the  bellman  was 
going  through  the  Church,  he   perceived    soveh'  angels 
guarding  round  the  spot;  and  was  so  much  affected  by 
some  power  that  he  was  not  able  to  stand,  but  fell  on  his 
fac^,  and.there  remained.    A  priest  afterwards  entesed  the 
church,  and  aji  he  approached  the  i^ltar,  wa»  struck  with 
awe.    The  foriemost  angel  spoke  to  him,  and  Worm^  him* 
of  all  that  had  happened,  and  requested  him  t©  go  for  the 
Bishop,  which  he  did.    The  bishop  came ;  an^  9*.  lifting 
the  wafer,  they  saw  it  slip  upward  through  his  ftigers,  and 
gradually  arise,  until  it  disappeared  far  above,  passing 
"^ough  the  clouds.    He  added  that  the  board  has  ever 
fin^  been  stained  with  blo<^  j  and  the  more  they  try  to 
rub  it  off,  the  brighter  the  color  appears.    It-remiiins,  he 
assured  nae,  in  the  Old  French  Church  at  this  day,  where 
the  board  is  still  preserved.  >.       . 


^H^^'" 


s 


I 


V 

4- 


V  . 


^. 


.«^:-- 


V. 


<r 


.A 


J- 


:x 


^itt-^'V^^''* 


^  ',>J 


rj  if 


IK>    4.:M 


.!^\ 


:    k^^!^t''^ 


<«»'■  vH' 


V:     ~. 


<i!?l^ 


■•S^Sj-  „ 


-Sit,«a8SlF«i»S»l»«*v 


;  -jg^^T^s^'^^-r?  .^ 


V;         V     218 1     Confessions  OF  A  Sister  of  Charity. 


/:■" 


^ 


r^i 


VI. 


-•rs.- 


n,'. 


Lasare—MyBteriouB  Hints.         ,  .  '  - 

TN  the  year  1832, 1  thtak  it  was,  I  wM  sent  to  .  «.mitry 
i  place  to  attend  on  »  nnmber  of  nuns,  who  were 
there  in  feeble  hedth  to  be  eared.  I  found  theywere  m  a 
kind  of  h08pifa,  in  the  npper.Btory  of  the  chnrch,  where 
aeeommodation,  we™  provided  f?r  them  •  b»t  all  w«  so 

^ged  that  nothU*  ^"^  ^  »«»  ««•■"*»  » ^  '  H 
latedto  exeite  even  *.  least  sospieion ,  and  thanpw  re 
eondneted,  in  all  respect.,  with  so  much  Bea<»y.  that  the 
people  in  the  neighborhood  had  n«  suspicion  that  onrtem  or 

fift«,n  nuns  from  Montreal  were  there  for  a  long  time 

irthelr  attendants,  although  they  were  frequently  v».t»d 

by  a  physician  of  the  neighborhoofl. 

«  I W  been  sent  there,  as  i  supposed.  beea,«e  ,t  w^ 
thought  thaVI  ^  in  possession  of  some  »*;>  kn-^J". 
and  skill  which  I  had  been  taught  by  my  Indian  mother  . 
1  I  hid  opportunity  to  pr«=Uee  on  the  patien*,  pW 
hie  ,  I  ofl^n  saw  the  physician,  and  received  d«eet>«^ 
rp^riptions  f«.m  him.    As  he  was  strictly  forbi^ 
LLak  Jveu  a  smgle  word  to  a,iy  of  the  nnns  I  nev 
L.^  hi.  voice,  but  received  all  m,  dUecUom.  from  h,n.  .n 


Impostures. 


213 


writing.  The  first  time  I  received  any,  I  was  much  sur- 
prised  to  find  they  were  written  in  English,  as  almost  every- 
body spoke  nothing  but  French.  I  was  afterwards  informed 
that  he  was  an  American  and  a  protestant  j  but  whether 
this  was  true  qr  not,  I  am  unable  to  say. 

We  occasionally  had  a  visit  from  a  woman,  who  was  said 
to  be  an  Abbess,  and  a  resident  of  the  place.  .She  seemed 
to  come  to  find  faults  in  our  behavior,  whicl;i  she  took 
pleasure  in  reporting  tffthe  priests,  who  were  sure  to  believe 
her  ;  and  then  we  had  penances  laid  upon  ils,  in  great  num- 
bers, and  often  very  severe  ones.  « 

Having,  at  that  time  of  my  life,  no  fixed  principles  to 
regulate  my  conduct,  no  serious  views  of  right' or  wrong,  I 
regarded  everything  that  I  would  call  a  jest,  as  a  trivial 
matter ;  and  a  falsehood,  spoken  in  joke,  as  altogether  harm- 
less.  Having,  therefore,  a  natural  turn  for  teazing,  and 
finding  that  most  of  the  sick  were  ignorant  and  supersti- 
tious Irish  girls,  I  often  amused  myself  by  exciting  fear  in 
them,  td  produce  which  I  would  tell  them  preposterous  fic- 
tions. . 

For  example  :  I  gravely  assured  them  that  I  could  talk 
with  the  angtls,  ai/Q  jabbered  a  little  in  Indian,  as  a  speci- 
men of  the  language  in  which  I  conversed.  I  professed  to 
tell  theur  fortunes  with  cards,  in  a  manner  taught  me  some 
time  before,  by  a  girl  who  since  had  died.  The  poor  and 
simple  Irish  nuns  believed  It  all,  and  would  freely  confess  to 
me  every  part  of  their  private  history  which  I  wished  to  ' 
learn.  I  recounted  some  of  their  confessions  to  the  priests, 
and  they  expressed  much  gratification  at  finding  mp  «»  Aill. 


A 


^■^ 


•'., 


■■*■  '-- 
iU        CoNFEsaoss  or  i  Sisto  of  Chamtt. 

toL  a„d  at  the  resdts,  and  often  directed  me  to  ^e  far- 
ti^  -inqniries  ;  and  the  conseqnencee  to  Bome  were  yery 
vexations  penances.  ,  .     . 

f  There  waa  a  singnlar  man  employed  in  the  gardens  of  the     . 
convent,  whom  I  nsed  to  call  ont  Old  Comioissenr     He 
W  a  great  deal  to  do  abont  getting  herbs,  partoradarly,  as 
I  heard  him  and  others  say,  banewort  and  ci(!atj|^I  know 
nothing-lifftotaoy,  with  the  excsptio^ot  tM-B^^m^-on 
plants  so  tlit  i^«  understood  wtat  het«aj.was  tong. 
or  what  hi  business  was.    I  iave  heard  him  asked  fro- 
Wently,  itk  was  snre  that  he  had  got  the  right  plants  or 
Lts(Ido  not  Unow  which  Vote  intended),  and  ftcy  were 
^d  as  I  iderstood,  to  make  wine  of,  or  to  be  muced  with 
,ine,  and  put  away  in  bottles.    He  seemed  to  have  some 
donbts  whether  he,  w^s  doin^'what  was  his  duty,  for  he 
would  say-"  Suri  the  priests  know  what  is  right,  and  I  do 
jnst  as  they  teU  me  ;  but  it  you  have  any  o^'Jf  »■«:  'Jj;- 
go  and  see  for  yourself,  and  then  be  content."    I  did  not 
Low  what  to  make  of  such  remarks,  nor  of  what  he  said 
•     to  me  one  day,  when,  as  I  was  passing  a  door,  on  my  way 
to  the  8cbool-r6om,  I  stopped  a  moment,  and  took  up  one 

-     of  his  bottles. 

"  Doa't  bft  in  a  hurry  to  take  that  I"  said  he ;  you  may 
wait  till  you  have  some  wrinUes  in  your  face,  and  then,  per- 
haps  you  wUl  have  enough  of  it.  Look  at  the  old  dames  j 
you  see  they  are  much  more  under  subjection  than  you  are. 
But  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  not  tell  what  I  have  said  to 
you .  don't  take  it  for  a  joke,  but  observe  things,  and  yo^u 
^-^ wUat  you  don't  understand  yflt,"    Then,  as  if 


will  discover 


^ft-;  -> 


"«'.!'■  y4"''r  »  "•;■'  <>j(  ^jSivVJ^TS^.'-wt^p-' 7!»^--  t'--ffe 


A  Heretic  Priest. 


215 


fearing  he  had  exposed  himself  by  trosting  something  to 

Bie  which  would  be  injurious  to  him,  if  known,  he  added 

"  Now  are  yoi»  going  to  keep  this  to  yourself,  or  will  you  go- 
and  tell  it  ?"    I  satisfied  him  that"!  would  not,  in  any  way, 
expose  him,  though  I  feft  there  would  have'  been  no  great 
danger,  even  if  I  had  been  disposed,  as  I  had  no  idea  of 
what  he  intended  to  hint  at.       "~'^,/ 

That  old  man  had  a  wooden  leg,  and  went  commonly  by 
the  name  of  the  "  Old  Grand  Lazare,"  his  real  name  being 
Lazare  Lazert.  He  was  a  native  of  France,  ^s  was  said, 
and  son  of  an  oflScer,  named  Lazert,  of  the  French  army, 
who  had  been  in  Canada,  and  taken  an  Indian  wife,  who 
had  afterwards  lived  with  him  in  France,  He  lived  in  the 
nunnery  as  a  kind  of  servant,  though  he  seemed  to  be 
chiefly  employed  in  the  way  I  have  mentioned.  I  some- 
times have  gathered  banewort  for  him  at  the  Priests' 
Farms.    Cicuta  grows  wild. 

-  There  was  another  man  whom  I  occasionally  saw  in  the 
H6tel  Dieu,  of  a  different  character.  I  understood  he  had 
been  a  priest,  but  had  incurred  the  severe  displeasure  of 
the  bishop  and  others  (how,  I  do  not  certainly  know,  though 
I  have  heard  that  he  was  reported  to  be  a  heretic),  and  he 
was  kept  in  confinement,  and  underwent  punishments  which,  v 
I  judged,  ^ere  intended  to  destroy  his  life  by.  degrees. 
When  I  first  knew  him,  he  was  employed  to  braid  trunmings 
'for  surplices,  and  in  painting  oU-cloths.  He  was  the  first 
person  who  advised  me  to  leave  the  convent  if  I  possibly 
could.  He  spoke  to  me  with  much  earnestness  and  solem- 
nity,  wheneYfic  Ihad  iULopportnnity:lai;ony<>rse  with  him  j 


216        Confessions  of  a  Sister  of  Chawtt. 

he  toticipated  appioacWng  death,  but  seemed  finn.and  of 
nnshaken  courage.  A  physician  came  iu  to  see  h,m  one  day 
and  I  believe  performed  some  operation  on  km ;  and  he 
4ied  about  fifteen  hours  afterwards,  as  I  was  told. 


\ 


'•-■■  mm'^fmr-'-'^^'' ',     '  ,'"*' 


^Tf* 


'srf     4.7 1'   ..  a  ~*»^>s.'"fsf    1' 


~^tfP' 


.ft* 


'•Wi^^Z 


iNVEIGLIKa    A    TiCTIU. 


211 


The  ioTeigUng  of «  Scotch  Girl  Into  the  Nunnery— Her  Confidential  Conversation- 
The  Superior's  Plan— Its  Execution -The  Chapel— A  Tision  of  the  Devil  M^^e 
Vhrgln  Mary. 


I 


MUST  npw  relate  the  history  of  a  conspiracy 


^. 


inveigling  of  a  young  lady  into  the  nunnery,  in  wnich  I 
had  a  share,  aind  a  very  important  one.  I  confess,  with  con-' 
trition  and  shame,  that  I  committed  a  great  sin,  and  did  an 
irreparable  wrong  to  an  innocent  and  unsuspecting  p^on, 
who  had  never  injured  me.  My  only  excus^  is,  that  I 
was  taught  to  think  my  share  in  the  transaction  meritorious, 
and  that  I  was  acting  by  the  directions  and  coinmands 
of  those  who  had  me  in  their  power,  and  habitually  under 
their  government.  It  has  left  a  heavy  load  on  my  coiiscience, 
which  can  never  be  removed.  I  often  reproach  myself 
severely,  and  can  never  cease  to  mourn  pver  the  recollection 
01  it.  I  was  the  cause  of  confining  in  the  convent,  for 
life,  a  young  lady  of  Scotch  descent,  who  entered  as  a 
novice,  about  five  months  later  than  myself.  . 

After  we  had  remained  as  novices  some  time,  and  about 
a  year  before  I  became  a  veiled  nun,  she  one  day  tdld  me 
she  wished  to  speak  her  mind  to  me,  and  I  gave  her 
[ition,j»rith.an^ojprc8aion  <ri^  ] 


•  >iTfl5^.T/ 


/ 


218        Confessions  of  a  Sister  of  Charity.         * 

#    ■  ■■'■-    ■ 
her  feelings  had  lately  been  changed.    Her  mother  was  a 

widow  lady,  and  very  rich.    She  had  entered  the  convent 

.  because  her  mother  wished  her  to  marry  a  young  man  named 

^Duchambeau,  or  Deschambeaux  (I  am  not  certain  which), 

a  relation  of  a  lady  of  LongueU,  or  named  Longeuil ;  but 

she  was  attached  to  another  gentleman,  of  whom  I  had  some 

knowledge,  but  whom,  for  a  particular  reason,  I  do  not  wish 

to  mention.    She  told  me  that  she  had  serious  doubts  of 

late,  whether  the  life  of  a  nun  was  happy  ;  and  she  had  great 

apprehensions  that  she  might  repent  if  she  should  once  take 

the  veil,  when  it  would  be  too  late,  as  she  could  never  leave 

the  convent  again:     Now,  knowing  that  I  intended  to 

become  a  nun,  she  wished  to  suspend  her  decision,  until  I 

should  be  able  to  give  her  my  opinion  from  my  own  experi- 

enc^,  and  she  therefore  requested  me  to  be  prepared  to  act  . 

as  |ier  friend  in  that  manner.     I  expressed  my  readiness. 

to  do  her  a  kindness,  as  I  felt  an  interest  in  the  conBding 

girl ;  but  that  night,  after  retiring  to  bed,  it  occurred  to  me 

that  I  might  perform  a  great' service  to  the  convent  and 

to  religion,  and  gain  a  high  honor  to  myself,  by  inducing 

her  to  become  a  nun  ;  and  J  determined  ^t  once  to^ommuni-;. 

cate  the  plan  to  the  Sup^ior.    Now,  it  was  the, custom 

for  any  of  the  novices  who  Wished  to  speak  to  the  Superior, 

to  mention  the  desire  to  one  of  the  old  nuns.    This  I  did 

the  next  morning,  when  I  wa^,  conducted  to  the  Superior's 

door,  and  readily  admitted.    \^hen  I  had  communicated  to 

her  the  object  xSf  my  visit,  she  e?cpressed  much  satisfaction, 

and  said  she  would  make  arrang^ents  to  have  the  matter 

taken  up  at  once.     She  would  inform  the  old  nuns  who  had  ^ 


\ 


<••  - 


1 


t..' 


.'.  ^ 


^    ^  '^'  SopEBioB'a  Tbick.  /         219 

chaige  of  .W  „ovice'5  department,  that  I  might  have  oporta- 
».t.es  to  coavcr.e  freely  with  the  Scotch  girl,  and  that 
Iwonld  be  appointed  to  "read  the  lecture"  that  day  in 
to  room,  which  shonid  be  an  appropriate  6nc  chosen  by 

.        She  then  told  me  that  if  I  snceeeded  in  my  plan,  she 
wodd  obtain  for  me  a  precious  relic  of  the  most  eitra- 
ordinary  and  wonderful  powers,  which,  by  its  virtues,  would 
secure  me  fifty  days'  indulgence  for  every  day  that  I  should 
wear  It     It  was  a  piece  of  the  W  „/  Mar,  MagiaUn, 
She  further  promised  to  intercede  for  me  with  the  Tirgiu 
Mwy,  to  get  for  me  as  high  a  place  as  that  of  the  founder 
of  the  nunnery.     She  then  gave  me  directions  how  to  pro- 
oeed.    ^On  the.  following  day,  after  reading  the  leet're. 
I  was  to  take  the  Scotch  girl  asid,,  at  some  conveniiut 
opportunity,  and  have  conversation  ,yith  her.    The  oldnihs 
would,  of  course,  make  no  objection/and  not  interrupt  our 
u^ternew.     I  was  to  tell  her  the  s/eps  by  which  a  novice 
becomes  prepared  to  be  a  nun,  and  speak  in  high  terms 
of  the  happiness  which  attends  her  through  life,  and  the 
blessmgs  it  secures  hereafter. 

This  was  aU  done.    I  read  the  lecture  as  appointed  j  and 
on  the  nest  day,  takmg  an  opportunity  which  I  readily 
found,  I  held  a  long  conversation  with  the  interesting  girl 
m  which  T  performed  my  part  according  to  instructions.'     . 
No  objection  was  made  by  any  one,  although  such  an  inter- 
view  W.4  a  direct  violaUon  of  one  of  the  most  rigid  laws      ' 
of  the  convent,  conversation  being  on  ahnost  every  occasion 
Btaetly  pK,hlbited,  under  penances  no  »av  airreeable.     T 


^J^Kl&^<,iJk,^ 


jr  ^ri^^^  ^"F^j^ 


; 


220 


CONFJSSSIONS    01'    A    SiSTEB    OF    ChaRITY. 


described  the'  pleasures  of  a  nunnery  life  in  glowing^  terms, 
and  urged  her  as  a  friend  to  take  the  subject  of  becoming 
one  in  serious  consideration,  for  I  had  long  deliberated  on  it, 
and  made  up  my  mind,  and  felt  assured  that  it  was  the 
happiest  event  in  my  life  when  I  came  to  the  decision.  She 
promised  to  give  the  matter  immediate  and  serious  attention, 
and  showed  by  her  appearance  that  she  trusted  me  implicitly, 
and]  was  deeply  impressed  with  my  remarks.     -   

I  then  told  her  that  it  was  her  duty  to  obtain  money  from 
her  mother,  and  give  it  to  the  convent.  It  wouM  be  an  act 
of  great  merit,  it  would  bo  applied  to  some  holy  purpose, 
and  be  highly  pleasing  to  God,  because  a  service  to  the 
church,  ^he  promised  to  consider  this  subject  also,  and 
I  left  her,  well  satisfied  that  I  had  pade  a  promising  begin- 
ing  in  my  undertaking. 

Though  I  now  look  back  upon  this  proceeding  with 
sorrow  and  self-reproach,  and  wish  it  were  possible  to  make 
somejimends  to  those  whom  I  deeply  injured  by  the  base 
imposture,  I  was  at  that  time  so  completely  deceived 
myself,  that  I  felt  no  compunctions  of  conscience,  but  on  the 
contrary,  really  believed  that  I  was  engaged  in  conferring  a 
great  benefit  upon  the  poor  girl  herself,  while  I  was  promot- 
ing the  honor  of  the  convent  and  religion,  ^n^  securing  to 
myself  inestimable  treasures. 

The  Superior  was  overjoyed  when  I  hastened  to  her 
apartment,  and  commumeftted  my  report  to  h'er.     She^ 
directed  me  to  hold  another  conversation  with  the  poot,  art- 
less child  without  delaW  and  tell  her  that  I  was  inspired  by 
the  Virgm  Mary  to  jpeak  to  her  in  this  manner,  and  that  I 


1^^ 


K. 


Arrangements  for  a  Vision. 


221 

^.td,™epera»nagc  would  .peak  .01.0.    TWs.l,ode»ed 
hoar  for  the  interview. 

There  was  »  large  <y„.,,  wUeh  was  sometimes  asod  by 
those  who  had  to  per»m  the  pecdiar  ceremony  of  I,  J 
.n™.tat,on  of  „„  S*i„ar.  extended  ia  the  attitude  <^' 
crnca™..    On  sneh  occasions  the  person  was  required  to 
™  herself  with  great  solemnity  for  the  ceremony,  and 
tten,  ha™g  the  crossed  upon  the  Boor,  to  enter  alone  in 
he  ^o^n.  of  the  darkened  chapel,  lay  herself  „p„„  „ 
,      "end  her  .rm.,upon  the  arms  of  the  cross,  and  lie  there' 
,  m  sUence  perhaps  ten  or  twel.e  hon«,  fasting  and  aeditat- 
ng,  or  praymg  the  whole  thne.    The  Superior  told  me  that 
things  should  be  prepared  for  the  intended  vision,  so  that  in 

place.  That  week  was  one  very  abundant  m  favors  tome 
I  had  presents  of  pany  different  kinds  :  Uttle  luxuries  were 
frequently  brought  n>e,  such  as  I  had  neverlen  bel^ 
was  allowed  great  freedom,  and  suffered  no  penances 'or 

hTh  h  ""  °f"'"'  f'd  «l*»»»epeatedi;  expressed 
the.  h,gh  sat^faction  with  my  behavior,; said  I  was  fast 
2^'  P«.g«  in  the  religious  life,  that  they  had  fnl,  con- 
fid^oe  .n  me,  and  thought  I  would  become  an  old  and 
pn«leged  nun  before, ong.  They,  however,  strictly  e^jo  J 
.pon  me  never  to  allow  .„y  p,„„„  ^„,  themselvJto  know^^ 
or  suspec  that  I  was  engaged  in  the  plan  which  I  w«  • 
P-rsmng  towards  the  Scotch  novice,  ^  to  be  extremely 


■* 


(     ) 


222         Confessions  ob'  V  Sister  of  Charity.  \       ' 

guardca  ia  everything  I  said  and  did,  to  prevent  tlie\8Ught- 
est  suspicion  from  being  excited  on  that  subject.         \ 
••* At  length  they  told  me  that  the  next  Monday  morning/ 
was>pp^nted  for  the  Scotch  girl«to  see  the"  pretended 
vision  of  the  Yirgin  Mary,  when  the  chapel  window  would 
be  darkened  as  much  as  possible  with  curta|n|Und  a  small 
lamp  would  be  placed  near  the  altar,  to  "m|^a  very  dim 
light,  and  I  must  take  a  station  at  a  partfcto  spot,  and 
stan^  in  an  attitude,  which  I  would  be  taught,  and  address 
her  in  a  feigned  voice,  so  that  shfr  would  not  recogmze  mo. 
I  was  to  act  .the  part  of  the  D^il  coming  to  tempt  her, 
while  the  Superior,  who  was  to  occupy  a  place  at  some  dis- 
tance, would  appear  as  the  Ti^^i,  and  encourage  her  to 
resist  Satan,  renounce  the  wicked  world,  and  beconle  a 

nun. .       \      -'..■■      .  •   ^.    - 

On  Saturday  evening  I  was  sent  to  hold  anQther  inter- 
view with  the  poor  girl,  and,  according  to  ^he  „Superior's 
directions,  invited  her  into  the  room  for  the  "  Examen  de 
conscience"  (examination  of  conscience),  and  told  her  that 
she  must  prepare  herself  for  the  expected  occasion,  which 
«f ould  be  a  great  favor.  She  was  not  to  eat  a  mouthful  of 
food  dn  Sunday  evening,  and  be  ready  on  the  following 
morning  to  go  into  the  chapel,  when  I  would  call  and  con- 
duct her.    I  apprised  her  that  it  was  always  the  practice 


of  the  devil,  during  that  penance,  to  assail  with  powerful 
temptations,  in  order  to  prevent  the  escape  of  a  soul  from 
his  power;  and  I  hoped  she  would  fortify  herself,  and 
summon  up  all  her  resolution  to  resist  him  successfully. 
The  poor  girl  believed  every  word  I  uttered,  and,  in  the 


^*>j;«!^Wit     ■SJ'*—     ' 


Appeal  to  Mothers. 


228 


fullest  confidence  that  I  was  her  friend,  and  speaking  tlie 
truth,  consented,  though  with  fear  and  trembling,  to  attend 
on  the  occasion  proposed,  and  to  endeavor  to  summon  up 
all  her  resolution  to  endure  the  solemn  trial. 

•Now  that  I  am  ojder  and  more  experienced,  have  had 
the  veil  of  deception  removed  from  my  eyes,  and  seen 
through  the  hypocrisy  and  atrocity  of  the  infernal  impos- 
tures of  convents,  I  am  filled  with  indignation  and  horror 
at  the  recollection  of  this  base  conspiracy.    I  mourn  at  the 
thought  of  thij  severe  and  prolonged  misery  which  I  doubt- 
lessly aided  in  bringing  upon' the  poor  confidmg  girl  and  her 
mother,  and  upon  a  family  circle  besides  ;  and  then  recol- 
lect that  hundreds  of  simUar  tricks  have^nce  been  perform- 
ed with  success,  in  that  convent  and  others,  and  their 
countless  victims  are  now  suffering  the  consequences  in  dif-''\ 
ferent  places.    I  think  with  sorrow  of  the  great  neglect  of      ' 
duty  in  parents,  which  is  the  first  cause  of  all  this— their 
wicked  and  unnatural  abandoning  of  their  daughters  to  the 
power  of  their  worst  enemies.    I  feel  ready  to  raise  a  cry 
against  this  cruel  custom,  by  which  innocent,  inexperienced, 
timid  and  docile  children  are  taken  from  the  pure  and  holy 
family  circle  where  God  had  plac.ed  them,  removed  from  the 
oversight  and  guardianship  of  parents,  and  the  safe  and   - 
^lappy  society  of  brothers  and  sisters,  from  amidst  all  the 
enjoyments,  advantages  and  safeguards  of  a  moral  and 
refined  neighborhood,  and  a  pure  and  Christian  society,  and. 
shut  up  in  a  gloomy  prison,  ruled  under  old  and  barbarous 
laws,  formed  centuries  ago,  in  distant  lands,  in  times  of  stupid 
ignorance,  taught  by  ignorant,  weak-minded  and  unprinci- 


cku£^liA^t3iii-i}  ^6«}.^  jL 


■■^1.' 


■.A 


224         Confessions  or  a  Sister  oT  eHAwrr. 

pled  old  women,  soured  by  a  life  of  misery,  degradation,  and 
tyranny,  themselves  the  debased  servants  of.,  priests,  often 
men  of  chali^ters  so^  infamous  p-nd  dissolute,  that,  but  for 
the  sccresy  they  enjoy  in  the  convents',  they  would  have  been 
long  since  extirpatecl  by  the  hangman;— to  think  of  all  this 
as  I  now  do,  and  to  see  it  in  its  true  light,  gives  mo  feelings 
which  I  cannot  fully  express.  .         . 

I  have  seen  Americans  who  deny  all  this,'  and  even 
intelligent  women  and  Christian  mothers,  who  accuse  me  of 
falsehood  or  insanity  for  remonstrating  against  nunneries. 
I  sometimes  wish  they  could  be  but  half  an  hour  in  one  of 
those  which  I  havo-  known  I  There  would  be  no  need  of 
my  arguments  after  that.,  They  would  come  out  cured  of 
nunneries  for  life.  Not  a  daughter  or  friend  of  theirs  would 
ever  enter  one,  I  would  warrant,  even  if  they  had  to  confine 
them  at  home  by  main  force. . 

But  I  hftve  lost  myself  in  a  digression,  and  must  retwn 
to  my  narrative.       '     '       ,  -  ,^  / 

On  Moi^ay  morning  I  took  the  poor  girl  to  the  chapel, 
telling  her 'on  the  < way,  that,  if  the  Devil  should  approach 
her  with  his  temptations,  shie  must  make  the  sign  of  4;he 
cross,  for  that  was  the  most  powerful  means  she  could 
resort  to  in  i^esisting  his  piower.  I  then  laid  her  upon  the 
cross,  extended  her  arms,  blinded  her  eyes  with  a  handker- 
chief, and.  Withdrew,  telling  her  I  should  leave  her  alone. 
The  place 'indeed  was  solemn  and  gloomy.  All  was  dark 
around,  thick  curtains  ^eing  drawn  tight  over  the  windows,  - 
i^nd  the  little  light  of  a  small  lamp  only  servmg  to  show  the 
,  altar,  and  penetrating  but  a -short  distance  around  it.  - 1 


1.  ' 


1 


#      t     7»  -  A  Mock  V,a,o»  »»  thb'  Dctii.  jjj 

«Ured  ..a  th^i.  over  »,e  ringL  .«d  o„tr.  ga™.„.,,which 
M  been  provided  «  »  hideous  di,g„i..,  for  tl^  b;.dago.- 
r  '"  f '»™''^'«"  "  "^..t  be  .affleienU,  re«,ov^  to  a  ol 

,    fifteen  minutes,  I  softlv  ret,jrned,  and  took  my„l«ce  in  a 

then  m  feigned  voiee,  began  to  address  her,  in  words  whieh 
tie  Superior  had  put  i„to  n.y  mouth,  and  which  I  very 
clearly  remember.  The  wi^d^  ar^  as  fresh  in  mind  at  this 
t.n,e  as  tf  ,t  had  passed  .inly  yesterday.  I  entered  and 
stepped  to  a  distant  part  of  the  room,  and  said  • 

"  Are  you  not  a  fool  to  lie  in  Ihat  posture,  foi  that  God 
oijoura?    Had  yon  not  better  serf  e  me  ?" 

She  mad^he  sign  of  the  cr.«s  ;  and  I  pret&dtd  to    ■ 
Tan»h  retiring  into  a  daric  corner,  and  remaining -perfectly 
motionless  and  silent  for  a  few  minutes;  I  then  agafa 
advanced,  and  addressed  her,  saying: 

"  Wonld  y<iu  not  rather  serve  me,  and  c«me  oul;  of  this 
pl«»  ?  Tou  ■m.rid  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  to  balK 
and  partake  ofpleasurea  of  all  kinds."     .  ■  ' 

Agahi  she  made  the  sign  6f  the  cross, 'md  agam -I 
vanished  as  before.  After  a  few  moments'  sUence,  I  began 
a^ain :  .     v 

« If  you  leave  this  nunnery  and  serre  me,  I  will  have  you 
married  to  the  young  man  you  like  so  much." 

I  wasgoing  to  say  more,  but  she  stopped  me  short  by 
another.sign  yf  the  cross;  and,  although  I  made  other 
atTimpts  to.get  a  hearing,  she  no  longer  Ustened  to  me,  but 

immediately  stopped  me  in  theJsame  mamic]*.    Finding  I 
-    -   '      10*'    ^^_^.^__ 


t- 


1%: 


;^:v..,.l 


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t 

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: 

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" 

,* 

-A 

, 

1 

1 

f- 

,           y 

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» 

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, 

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Tii^n,^ 


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226 


V 


Confessions  of  a  Sister  of  Chabttt. 


:$M. 


could  do  no  more,  I  threw  off  niy  disguise,  and  went  softly 
to  the  Superior,  who  had  been  listening  all  the  while.  She 
told  me  to.  sit  down,  and  make  not  even  the  least  noise. 
She  then  went  in,  and  said,  in  a  gentle  ^ice  : 

.:^"  I  am  your  Holy  Mother.  •  I  have  been  attentive  during 
the  temptation  you  have  endured,  witnessed  your  faithful- 
ness, and  will  adopt  you  as  one  of.  my  children.    Are  you 

Villing  to  become  one  of  my  daughters?  If  you  are,  you 
must  join  the  Sisters  this  week,  and  make-your  vows  before 
another  Sabbath  passes  over  your  head.  I  am  afraid  the 
devil  is  laying  deep  plots,  and  making  extraordinary  efforts 
to  get  you  ;  but  when  you  have  your  vows  made,  I  think 

,  you  will  be  safe.'' 

The  Superior  then  proceeded  to  ask  her  if  she  was  willing 
to  give  up  all  she  had  to  the  Holy  Church,  adding,  "  Unless 
you  give  up  all  you  have  here,  I  cannot  accept  you."  She 
then  promised  her  her  protection,  and  retired,  after  giving 
her  her  blessing,  saying,  "  Peace  be  with  you."  *  5 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  I  went  to  inform  the  poor 
girl  that  the  Superior  wished  to  see  her.  She  went,  an^ 
found  also  a  priest,  the  Superior  of  the  Seminary.*  The 
Superior  of  the  convent  began  by  telling  her  she,  herself, 
had  had  a  vision,  in  which  she  was  informed  that  the  young 
novice,  who  was  doing  penance  in  the  chapel,  was  acceptable 
in  the  sight  of  God."  The  Scotch  girl  seemed  overjoyed  on 
receiving'  this  intelligence.  And  then  the  Superior  told  her 
that  she  ought  to  take  all  the  advice  I  might  give  her,  as  she 


>4' 


^*Non  BT  THi  EDiTOB.-r'Xhe  Seminary  is  Uie  institution  for  th«  education  of 
•  priests,  kept  by  the  SuIp^ciaiA,  who  are  Jesuits  under  another  name. 


■»JWt' 


^UCCESS.  OF    THE    ChEAT. 


22t 


had  faU  confidence  in  m&,  and  I  would  be  both  qualified  and 
disposed  to  aid  her  in  any  question  of  duty  that  might  arise 
in  her  mind,  and  had>her  welfare  much  at  heart.    She  then 
requested  her  to  return  to  the  novices'  department,  retire 
into  a  corner,  meditate  seriously  on  what  course  she  ought 
to  pursue,  and  make  up  her  mind.    The  girl  retired  accord- 
ingly, but  I  remained,  as  the  Superior  had  intimated  to  me 
that  she  wished  me  to  stay  and  hear  something  ia  private. 
The  Superior  of  the  Seminary  soon  after  withdrew,  and 
then  thfe  Superior  of.the  Convent  directed  me  to  go  to  the 
novice  and  use  all  my  influence  to  persuade  her  to  determine 
to  become  a  nun  immediately,  saying  that  I  must  not  faU  to 
coax  her  into  it.    I  went,  accordingly,  but  could  not  brin^ 
her  to  make  a  promise  at  that  time.    She  said  she  must  see 
her  mother  first.    I  inquired  why  that  was  necessary ;  and 
she  answered  that  she  wished  that  everything  her  mother 
could  spare  her  should  come  to  the  convent.    This  I  com- 
municated to  the  Superior,  who  ^aid  she  would  send  for  her 
mother  the  next  day.    ' 

'  Her  mother  came,  and,  on  learning  her  daughter's\tate 
of  mind,  entreated  her  with  the  greatest  earnestness  to 
leave  the  convent  j  but  all  her  efforts  were  vain.    Ifo 
persuasion  could  influence  her.    She  declared  that  she  had 
determined  to  become  a  nun  on  the  next  day,  Wednesday, 
reque8|ing  her  mother  to  bring,  the  same  afternoon,  every' 
thing  ^he  intended  to  give  her.    The  result  was,  that  the 
moneW  was  brought  and  paid  over  ;  and  I  was  assured 
tbat'^o  other  nun  had  ever  brought  so  rich  a  donation 
.  She  was  received  on  Wednesday. 


befor^ 


I?'-, 


228 


Confessions  of  a  Sister  of  Gharitt. 


i4:. 


I  neyer  afterwards  spoke  with  that, young  woman,  l^t 
•whenever  I  met  her,  which  was  more  frequently  than  I 
^Q^ired,  she  gave  me  a  look  which  pierced  through  my  very 
soul. 


1^. 


<r 


-"%' 


«R 


^>t>  "■'  '"'"^ 


>','■•'',■  ■•": 


The  Black  Nunne»y. 


229 


VIII. 

TheH6telDlen,orBIackNunnery-The8ubterrane«il.««Me-P«cte-Arg«ment. 
Pro  and  Con-Histotfcal  EyldenwH-linporUnce  it  the  QuesUbn-Effects  to  be 
Anticipated.  , 

fTIHE  H6tel  Dien,  or  Black  Nunnery,  of  Montreal,  is 
X  situatedjn  the  midst  of  the  city.  \  The  grounds  form 
nearly  a  square  of  about  two  hundred  Wt,  and  are  sur- 
rounded by  high  Willis,  except  where  the  Ludings  come  to 
the  streets,  which  are  narrow.  The  names  ^f  the  streets  are 
St.  Paul's  and  Notre  Dame,  in  front  and  rear,  Ld  St.  Joseph's 
anJ^t.  ^ohn  Baptist  at  the  sides.  On  theUuare  beyond 
St.  Joseph's  street,  stands  the  Seminary,  whire  the  young 
priests  of  Canada  are  educated.  Adjoining  il  is  the  site  of 
the  old  church,  where  are  old  vaults  remainiig.  Now,  so 
much  has  been  reported  about  a  subterraXin  passage 


will  mention 


between  the  Nunnery  and  the  Seminary,  that  I 
a  few  things  relating  to'  it. 

A  house  stands  on  the  comer  of  the  nunnerylgrounds,  at 
the  angle  of  Notre  Dame  and  St.  Joseph's  streit,  which  is, 
or  was,  occupied  by  a  man,  several  of  whose  imUy  have 
declared  that  they  have  been  frightened  at  diffejrwit  times, 
by  hearing  Yoi^^^  procftftding  froBMmdor  gr ouna, 


irhich  the/" 


'M^'' 


230         Confessions  op  a  Sister  of  Chabitt.  ' 


conid  not  at  Jfirst  'account  for,  because  thiere  was  no  other 
building  near  their  own.  It  has  long  been  rumored  in 
Montreal  thtft  there  is  a  subterranean  passage  under  St. 
Joseph's  street ;  and  several  persons  have  lately  declared, 
that  they  have  heard'  the  human  voice  under  ground,  in  that 
immediate  vicinity.  *•  These  assertions  have  been  denied  by  • 
the  priests  ;  but  not  long  ago,  as  I  heard  it  declared  without 
contradiction,  some  laborers  while  digging  under  the  site  of 
the  old  church,  came  upon  such  an  opening,  which  was  seen 
by  passers-by,  and  attracted  attention.  But  it  was  soon 
carefully  concealed  agftin,  and  it  was  given  out  that  the 
opening  was  only  an  old  vautt.  In  June,  1835, 1  believe, 
from  the  statfements  made  by' reputable  persons,  cries  .were 
heard  under  ground,  in  that  neighborhood  ;*  and  those  were 
so  loud  and  distressing  as  to  attract  my  attention  ;  and  two 
Boman  Catholic  serVant  girls,  living  in  the  corner-house 
above  mentioned,  left  their  place  on  account  of  them,  either  > 
from  terror  or  superstition,  or  both. 

A  tailor  living  in  Quebec  suburbs,  whose  name  might  be\ 
given,  was  one  of  the  persons  who  have  spoken  of  sufih* 
sounds  being  heard  inme  place  mentioned  ;  and  had  as 
his  authority,  an  apprentice  of  his,  who  had  told  him  of 
them.  But  many  other  witnesses  have  assej^ted  the  same 
thmg,  so  that  it  has  long  been  a  current  belief  among  a  large 
class  ofpeople  in  Montreal,  that  there  is  a  secret  ""passage 
leading  under  ground,  between  the  Seminary  and  the  nun- 
nery, or"  their  grounds  ;  and  that  persons  sometimes  pas9, 
who  talk  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  and  others  are  forced 


N 


N 


V 


Su-bterMneak  Passages. 

i 

4 


231 


these  latter  are  generVly  fepales,  as  shril/cries  and  shrieks 
are  sometimes  clearl/distingaished.  - 

''Remarks  by  T^ETlDrrDR.- About  twenty ^  years  ago,  a 
highly  respectable  and  intelligent  American  gentleman  visited 
the  Priests'  S^&inary  in  Quebec,  and  held  a  long  conversa- 
tion with  a  foreigner  of  education  and  polished  manners, 
who  Showed  him,  in  a  confidential  manner,  a  key  of  supe'- 
rior  workmanship,  which  he  said  belonged  to  the  door  of  a 
sub'terranean  passage,  leading  to  an  adjacent  convent.    The 
visitor  had  previously  been  quite  incredulous  concerning  the 
existence  of , such  passages,  and  had  expressed  much  opposi-  • 
tion  to  the  reports,  then  In  generalcirculation,  respecting  I 
that  in  Montreal. 

The  discussion  which  was  then  excited,  has  Served  to^-^ 
direct  attention  to  the  subject ;  and  a  collection  of  casfes  of 
'  a  similar  kind  has  been  made,  in  which  subterranean  passages 
have  been  found  to  exist  between  the  institutions  of  priests, 
and  those  of  nuns,  Ac,  which  may  some  day  be  published. 
In  all  the  principal  papal  countries,  and  in  all  periods  of' 
popery,  such  secret  .communications  have  been  in  existence. 
It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  the  Romish  ecclesiastics'in 
the  tJn^ted  States  should  be  unwilling  {o  have  Such  facts  ' 
know^,  Qx  that  they  should  use  great  eflforts  to  quief  or  to 
divert  public  inquiry  when  aroused  to  it.    The  fact  is  of  sd 
practical  and  direct  a  kind,  so  discreditable,  so  shameful,      ' 
hypocritical,  so  conclusive  against  the  character,  nature  and 
influence  of  such  institutions,  ■  in  short,  such  a  decisive, 
nnanswcraj^ 


ttrgumvuc  ttgamst  tt 


a-'. 


...4. — ^^_ 


:_4_X. 


i  ■  r:i 


\\ 


Jt> 


r 


232       J  C0NiPESSI0N3'^  OF    k.   &STER    OP    OhaKITY. 


all  that  is  theirs,  that  they  must  regard  the  question  as  vital. 

In  an  intelligent  and  free  Protestant  coantry;at  the  present 

period  of  the  world,  the  existence  of  sucfi  a  concealed  means 

\>  of  communfcid;i6n  between  large  edifices,  professedly  devoted^  . 

-    to  great  numbers  of  males  and  females,  separated  from  each 

*.    i other  and  the  world,  for  religious  seclusion  and  the -special 

and  exclusive  service  of  God,  offers  so  flagrailt  an  instance  of 

profligacy  and  Hypocrisy,  that  the  exposure  of  it,  whenever 

it  shall  be  made  obvious,  must  inevitably  draw  down  ujion 

the  guilty,  overwhelming  condemnation,  abhorrence,  and  . 

V  .  disgust.    Whenever  the  day  arrives,  that  the  American 

^  public  shall  be  convinced  o^'what  some  persqns  already  are 

persuaded  of,  they  will  look  upon  the  whole  monastic  system 

•  V        with  different  eyes,  and  it  wiH  no  longer  be'  necessary  to 

collect  facts-  aiid  arguments,'  and  publish  books  like  the 

jtreseilt.    Parents  and  guaYdiahs  will  baware  of  the  horrible 

gulf  against  which  we  ard  nqw  wapning  them,  apd  even  the 

«  Jesuit  and  Bishop  will  lay  tEear^lans  in  yam  ;  their  secret- 

>    ^   agents  will  toil  fo||)iaught.;  the  numerous  spies  and  seducers, 

who  infest  .every  class  of  American  society,  will  find  their. 

,  efforts  frustrated.    They  will  be  exposed,  unmasked,  and 

■       driven  away  with  the  scorn  and  antipathy  which  they  deserve. 

jAnd  such  a  change  may  be  near.    We  Ijave  lately  seeb 

the  signal  downfall  of  a  popish  archbishop,  in  the  most 

conspicuous  situation  in  America,  exposed,  stripped  and 

,  '  held  up  to  public  view,  as  an  arrant  impostor  and  hypocrite 

—  -     '     — ^his  impious  claims  of  resemblance  to  tW divine, Saviour 

were  opposed  by  the  simplest  statement  of  faet%  and  docu- 

'ments  copied  from  public,  records.,    No  man  in  the  United 


■,^ 


y 


^v„ 


%■■ 


r 


;.'/-. 


:p;,  :Rssm,T3  to  be  Hoped  For.  233 

■  StaU  now  njcds  to  bo  told,  tbat  Roimsh  ecclesiastics  are 
,  rapacious  hawks  and  vnilnres,  wlio  ase  the  pretence  of 
,    rehgjjn  to  shear,  and  e.cn  to  skin  and  eat  the  slieep  they 
pretend  to  feed;    Just  so  it  will  b'e  with  anns,  nnnncrie^ 
: .    »d  .monasteries  Bf  every  kind   and   name,  when  some 
.  clear,  poetical,  and  positive  truth  shall  be  made  known  and 
proved,  conelnsive  of  the  corrupting  purposes  to  which  the  > 
monastic  system  is,  ani^ibr  centuries  has  been,  extensively 
adapted  anft  sustained.    And  the  general  indignation  will 
be  great  in  proportion  to  the  victims,  who  have  been  the 
^  sufferers.    Fathers  and  mothers,  brothers  and  sisters,  wUI 
fe^i  more  deeply,  when  they  view  the  toils  s'et  for  the  fairest 
loveliest,  and  most  unsuspecting,  of  their  households  ;  and 
e^ml^y,  when  they  contemplate  tha  plots  and  wiles,  by    ' 
which  e^ag  were  secretly  heiped  up  by  arrogant  priest., 
while  „^^  whiue  and  cant  of  hypocrisy,  even  thougll 
bread  was  snatched  from  the  mouths  of  the  poor,  or  the 
last-penny  robbed  from  the  pockets  of  tie  bereaved.    The 
stealthy  mvasion  of  the  fireside,  mider  pretences  of  rehgion 
in  or^r  to  rob  it  of  its  diamonds,  and  to  extinguish  for  ever   ' 
M  light  and  happmess,  will  send, legislators  to  write  m  our 
rfitute  books,  with  pens  of  iron,  laws  which  shaU  open 
couvent^to  the  Ught  of  day,  uiiock  tfceir  secret  recesses, 
,and  drive  ii:om  their  lurking-places,  the  foreign  and  miclean 
birds  and  beasts)  which  now  desolate  and  defile  our  naUvo 

land.  .•* 

••      -1     .  -■.-, 

There  is  already  abundant  and  snperabnndant  evideiiee" 
againBt  convents,  to  mark  upon  eVery  ediflce  of  that  nature 
the  label: —  ' 


t 


■^ 


.  ?%J    .   .  r  , 


234         Confessions  op  a  Sister  op  Charity., 

'  '^'  A  Suspicious  Institution." 

In  past  times,  and  long  befprTthe  epoch  of  the  glorious 
Reformation,  a  vast  amount  of  testimony  had  been  collected, 
attested,  and  recorded  against  the  immorality  of  priests  ^d 
nuns;  at  the  order  of  bishops,  and  even  popes,  who,  alarmed 
or  disgusted  at  their  degraded  and  infamous  condition,  at 
different  periodS|;attempted  to  reform  them.  Those  records, 
whenever  they  shall  be  .read  in  this  country,  will  be  found 
to  furnish  abundant  ground  for  our  legislators  to  proceed 
upon,  agamst  institutions  of  the  same  kind  now  existting  in 
our  land. 


;.^ 


CONFESSIONS    RESUMED. 

It  has  recently  been  said,  and  I  believe  printed,  by  some 
of  the  priests  or  their  known  friends,  that  the  hole  opened 
on  the  site  of  the  old  church,  w&s  part  of  an  ancient  covered 
way,  long  disused  and  almost  forgotten,  which  was  con- 
structed  in  early  times,  to  secure  the  holy  Jesuits  of  the 
semmary,  and  the  holy  nuns  of  the  H6tel  Dieu,  a  retreat  to 
boats  in  the  river  St.  Lawrence,  in  case  of  danger  from  the 
Indians.  But  the  nuns  are  under  a  solemn  vow,  binding 
them  never  to  leave  the  convent,  eve^  in  case  of^re  ]  and 
besides  the  first  story  told  by  the  pri'ests,  and  sworn  to  by 
their  friends,  was,  that  there  is  no  subterranean  passage  at 
all,  and  never  was  any,  and  that  ili  is  a  shameful  slander 
to  say  that  any  ever  exited.  But  besides,  the  direction  of 
the  passage,  as  indicated  by  the  cifies,  and  by  the  openmg  of 
the  hole  in  the  site  of  the  old  church,  is  quite  a  different  one 
from  that  which  would  be  taken  to  reach  the  river's  bank 


•  -J  ■'■ 


,IC'('c%«? 


'\  • 


SDBTERRANE4N    PASSAGES. 


235 

in  a  direct  line ;,  and  ;therefbre  all  the  pretences  of  the 
pnests  (as  is  usually  th^^  case  with  their  stories)  go  to 
prove  the  very  opposite  to  trhat  they  assert. 

However,  I  am  n6w  spewing  of  th<?  testimony  of  other 

people,  and  should  only  add  %c,  that  I  need  none  fo  con. 

vmce  myself;  as  I  have  not  only^).nown  persons  who^have 

seen  the  subterranean  passage  ingestion,  but  have  seen 

pnests  come  and  go  through  it,  intend  from  the  convent 

-and  have  passed  through  it  myself.    I  have  no  doubt  there 

are  others  of  the  kind  in  Canada  ;  and,  wherever  there  is 

a  nunnery  near  a  priests'  institution  of  any  kind,  I  should 

presume,  as  a  matter  of  course,  there  would  be  a  secre 

passage  between  them.  . 


T 


^ 


xy-'-w^r:-' 


236 


CONFESSIOXS    OF    X    SiSTER    Of   ChARITT. 


•        .  ■      ■■ 

REMARKS  BY  THE  EDITOR. 

Intrigues  in  Convents-Plots,  Con8pi«>cies,  Ac,  against  persons,  near  and  distant- 
Note  concerning  the  Abduction  of  Bishop  R626— Murder  of  an  American  Nun 
at  Sear-Reflec^oDs.  / 

HERE  the  author  touches,  with  much  truth,  upoi 
one  of  the  maoy  great  branches  of  iniquity,  ^.ptt- 
vate  and  public,  essentially  belonging  to  the  convent  sys^m. 
The. developments  niade  on  this  subject,  by  Cardinal^iecL 
are  numerous  and  astounding,  almost  surpassing  bfelief,  arid 
exceeded  only  by  his  developments  of  the  shameful  corrup- 
tion and  criminality  of  convents.  It  is  prope/ to  give  here 
a  brief  account  of  a  remarkable  instance/in  which  such 
intrigues  were  successfully  carried  on  in  the  interior  of  the 
United  States,  &s  they  resultied  in  the  kidnapping  and  irre- 
coverable loss  of  a  bishop,  who  had  craended  certain  priests 
in  one  of  our  western  towns,  by  his  endeavors  to  rfestrain  « 
their  heinous  and  ^c^ndalous  confluct. 

Bishop  R6z6,  who  was  coMldered  one  of  the  most  irre- 
proachable men  for  moral  cKaracter  who  ever  bore  the  title 
of  a  popish  bishop  in  the /United  States,  lived  in  Cincinnati 

about  years  -ago/   There  was  a  convent,  in  which 

irregularities  were  committed,  and  he  interfered  to  stop 


ihem,  Dy  wMCh  heMm^ttmn  upon  his  own  head.    T^ 


BOW  b*oro  tl.0  editor,  „itte„  aWut  ton  yea.,  ago.  ft,„,  .Ue 
.erbal  ,o™|a„aie«ioo,  of  a  foreign  Ro,aan  priest,  ,v,,o  had 
had  e.,e.,ave  opportanities  for  observing  the  priests  aad 
Josarts  ,u  Earope,  and  h^d  become  a  siacere  and  pim,s 
protestaat,  whieh  character   he  has   maiataiaed  to  this 

^  VOr.  Frederick  Reze,  my  friend,  was  Vicar-General  of 
Cincinnati,  and  Bishop  of  Detroit.    He  was  born,  I  believe 
^  Hanover,  in  low  condition;   and.  on  going  to  Rome' 
„became  acquainto.d  with  Gaetana,  the  barber  of  Cardinal 
CasseIani,Jthen  Prefect  of  the  Propaganda,  now  (in  1846) 
Pope,  and  ^as  admitted  Into  the  Propaganda,  where  he 
became  chaplain  in  the  Sistine  Chapel.     The  Cardinal's 
m&ience  made  Dr.  Reze  Grand  Vicar,  and  sent  him  to 
Cincmnati. .  He  was  a  member  of  the  Leopold  Society, 
When  the  Cardipal  was  elected  Pope,  he  made  Reze  Sf 
bishop      His  preaching  was  much  more  evangelical  than 
that  of  most  popish  ecclesiastics  ;  and  he  suspended  severaJU 
priests  and  nuns  for  intemperance,  and  other  im&oralities^' 
One  of  those  priests,  and  one  of  the  nuns,  went  to  Rome  td 
protest  ftgainst  him.    They  were  Belgians  ;  and  there  they 
met  with  one  of  their  countrymen,  high  in  influence,  who 
readily  espoused  their  cause.    This  was  Father  de  la  Mar- 
Gha,  Procurator-General  of  the  Dominican  Orders.    There 
are  four  orders- of  monks  :  the  Dominican,  the  Franciscan 
(which  includes- the  Capuchins,  whose  founder  was  St.  John    - ' 
CapiBtrano),  the  St.  Francis  de  Paul,  and  the  /^  ngiiHffrtftin,!, 


\ 


Jiach  of  these  four  orters  is  governed  by  a  general,  who 


238 


Confessions  of  a  Sister  of  Ceurity. 


i 


i^ 


,' 


resides  near  the  Pope.    The  Jesuits  are  not  monks,  but 
priests. 

Now  Father  de  la  Marcha  had  great  influence,  from  his 
station  with  the  Dominicans ;  and,  when  Bishop  Rez6 
arrived  at  Rome,  that  dignitary  had  been  enlisted  against 
him,  and  in  favor  of  the  Belgian  priest  and  nun,  from  Cin- 
cinnati, who  had  preceded  him.  He  had  gone  thither  for 
the  purpose  of  justifying  his  conduct ;  but  his  enemies, wish- 
ing to  prevent  him  from  having  an  J!|)pori;u(iity  to  majce 
explanations,  got  him  summoned  to  give  an  account  of 
receipts  and  expenses,  that  they  might  get  hold  of  some- 
thing by  which  to  crush  him.  They  raised  a  suspicion  of 
his  having  retained  a  portion  of  the  money  which  had  passed 
through  his  hands,  but  produced ^no  evidence  of  it,  and 
would  not  allow  him  to  return  to  the  United  States. 
I  was  in  Rome  while  he-vras  detained  there,  saw  him 

,  often,  and  formed  an  attachment  to  him.  *ne  resiaed  in  a 
convent,  near  the  Corso — I  think  it  is  Santa  Maria  in 
Lucina.  There  a  miserable  room  had  been  assigned  to  him, 
with  scarcely  a  chair,  and  he  was  not  permitted  to  go  out, 
unless  for  a  short  walk  in  the  city,  and  then  only  in  com- 
pany with  some  person  belonging  to  the  Propaganda.  I  * 
have  seeahim  mendmg  his  red  stockings,  which  are  worn  by 
bishops.     I  felt  so  much  sympathy  for  him,  that  I  visited 

^  him  daily,  for  several  months.   At  the  time  when  I  left  him, 
I  was  informed  that  it  was  the  intention  to  send  him  to  - 

-Monte  Casino,  near  Capua,  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  the 
residence  of  the  General  of   the   Benedictines,  and  the  . 
nuMer-/iou^c  of  the  order. 


'  s^pi^TarsT^ 


it 


T 


Bishop  RezI.  \_23«' 

Cardinal  Prince  Fxanzoni,  Prefect  of  th|gropaganda 
is,  in  fact,  Pope  for  non-Catholic  countries,  and  appoints  all 
bishops  forth«m.     He  is  a  Genoese  prince.     He,  his  chap- 
Iain.  Don  Filippe,  and  Archbishop  Cardolini,  of  Edesse  <Iate 
Archbishop  of  Spoletttr),  were  my  friends,  for  some  time 
after  my  arrival  in  Kome  ;  bnt,  when  they  knew  of  my 
•  mtmiacy^with  Bishop  R6ze,  they  all  became  my  enemies." 
,      The  preceding  facts,  copied  from  notes  written  at  the 
time  when  they  were  communicated,  have  been  given    in 
order  to  show  how  intrigues  may  be  carried  on  in  American- 
convents,  for  nefarious  purposes,  with  perfect  secresy,  extend 
their  mfluences  to  Rome,  and  there  produce  their  designed 
effects.     The  disappearance  of  Bishop  R6ze  caused  much 
inquiry  in  the  United  States,  for  a  time,  and  the  inquiry 
was  repeated  in  many  newspapers  :  "  Where  is  he  ?"  but  he 
seems  now  to  have  bepn  almost  entirely  forgotten.   The  last 
news  heiml  of  him  wds,  that  he  was  in  Germany,  where  he 
had  chosen  a  retreat.    This  was  assertedHby  some  of  his  ene- 
mies  m  Now  York,  and  probably  was  intended  to  mislead 
inquiry.    Whether  living  or  dead,  is  no^  uncertain-pro- 
bably  the  latter.  -^  ^*^ 


One  natural  cpestion  presents  itself :  Ought  not  Ameri^: 
can  laws  to  be  able  to  check  the  cruninal  proceedings  of/ 
mtrusive,  bold  and  arrogant  foreigners,  wlio  c^no  to  this^ 
country  to  perpetrate  crimes,  atd  deliver  inn(?e|ntWons 
mto  the  hands  of  ^.fbreig^  despotic  power,  ti>  liplipris-^ 
toed,  and  perhaps  killed,  to  satisfy  their  revengc'^^d  t 
leave  them  unrestrained  in  crime  ? 
But  there  is>other  cLe  which  addresses  itself  .tJU  m^r^ 


m: 


s 


1^' : 

/ 


240 


Confessions  of  a  Sister  of  Charity. 


^^ 


directly  to  the  feelings  of  Americans.  A  few  years  ago,  a 
young  woman  of  this  country  was  placed  in  a  European 
convent,  and  after  some  time,  was  suspected  of  an  intention 
to  escape,  and  renounce  Popery.  J3y  what  means  such  a 
suspicion  was  aroused,  is  not  known  ;  but  a  plan  was  formed, 
by  most  treacherous  means,  to  defeat  her  supposed  or  pre- 
tended project,  and  to  punish  her  for  entertaining  it.  She 
w^s  placed'  on  board  a  ship,  with  expressfons  of  kindness 
and  good  wishes,,  and  set  sail.  On  board,  however,  was  a 
m^  who  pretended  to  medical  skill,  aiid  officiously  under- 
took to  administer  some  medicine,  which  he  told  her  she 
required.  She  died  in  a  short  time,  with  symptoms  of 
having  been  poisoned !  The  physician  was  a  Jesuit,  and 
secret  agent  of  the  convent  where  she  had  resided. 

Will  not^a  time  come,  when  such  atrocities  shall  cease  ? 
Is  it  not  a  duty  to  make  known  to  Americans  the  true 
nature  and  actual  developments  of  that  system  of  falsehood, 
darkness,  and  crime,  which  is  urged  and  insinuated  among 
us  by  so  many  speciods  foreign  impostors,  and  advocated  by 
so  many  corrupt  and  selfish  men,  among  our  most  unprinci- 
pled politicians?  The  preceding  instances  of  successful 
intrigue  are  but  two  examples  out  of  many  others  knoWn, 
and,  doubtless,  of  thousands  never  revealed  to  the  world. 
Who  wiirsay  that  a  system  ought  not  to  be  overthrown, 
which  produces  such  cruninal  effects  t 


V"- 


Ix- 


The  intrigires 


The  practice  of 
of  deceiving  the 


'Tr^JW- 


CoNFOCTINa    EllOTIONa. 


CONFESSIONS    RESUMED. 


241 


which  were  continually  goiijg  on  in  the  con- 
.  vents  were  sources  of  endless  troubles,  anxiety  md  suspicion. 


going  out  in  disguises,  was  one  of^thff  wajs 
world  ;  but  every  person  yrithia  the  waUs, 
as  it  appeared  to  me,  was  either  a  plotter,  a  victim,  or  a  dupe 
and  instrument  of  the  intrigues  of  others.    Many,  I  presume, 
like  myself,  were,  at  different  times,  all  these ;  and  it  would^ 
be  imppMible  for  me  to  describe  the  man>  ways  in  which 
s^|"a  Ijfe  produces,  misery.    Never,  after  I  had  begun  to ' 
■fifeelntOHhe  insincerity  of  the  sanctimonious  professions  of 
the|jriests.  Superiors,  and  some  of  the'ol(«huns,  did  I  enjoy 
a  moment  of  real  confidence  in  any  person  around  me ;  and, 
after  I  had  been  employed  in  deceiving  others,  both  in  thj 
convent  aid  out  of  it,  I  had  a  restless  ^nd  stinging  con- 
science  added  to  a  sense  of  universal  hypocrisy  and  active 
maUgnitj  among  my  companion  and  rulers,  whifeh  rendered 
life  a  burden.    I  believe  I  was  sometimes  impeUed  by  a  des- 
perate hostmty  to  the  human  race,  when  set  at  the  task  of 
beguiling,  betraying  and   injuring    others,  although   the 
remains  of  my  belief  in  the  religious  doctrines  in  which  I 
had  been  educatedroftfen'seemed  to  have  much  influence  on 
my  conduct.    I  have  felt  the  strangest  mixture  of  doubts, 
and  conflicting  emotions,  when  leaving  the  convent  in  thl 
dress  of  a  Sister  of  Charity,  and  in  acting  as  one,  as  school- 
teacher,  and  otherwise.  « 

^^°y°^es  I  could  mention,  in  which  nuns  as  well  as 
uuvices  were  made  suffered  by  the  ^teiJth7^S~nefarion8 

-'■  fc        ■    '      "11 


^"* 


'f 


■  # 


..  ■;^^ 


242        Confessions  OF  a  Sister  of  GHARnr.  '"' 

designs  of  the  priests,  Superior,  and  some  of  the  old  nnns^ 
and  the  latt6r  were  sometimes  overreached  by  coonterplots, 
or  nnexpected  intrigaes,  laid  ia  revenge,  or  for  some  other 
motive.  Tho  evangelical  priest,  who,  I  think,  was  one  of 
the  greatest  sufferers,  was  doubtless  betrayed  by  some  deep- 
laid  plot ;  and,  but  for  some  favorable  circumstances,  which 
I  shall  never  fully  understand,  I  presume  I  should  have 
shared  a  similar  fate. 


\ 


^. 


%' 


Y;    ''i^ 


DiSGTTISES. 


*' 


X;4   .  ^   • 

»     .  ■"  ,         •  •    \    .  .■■•^ 

■ .  ,.;'':^'.'- 

pamente  for  DisguUe^BxcBnions  from  the  Convent  dreraedaa  a  SIrter  '^  ' 

iWty,  aa  a  Prie»t,  Ac— Nona'  laUnd-The  Priesta'  Farm-Persona  whom  I 
^    aaw  visiting  the  Nunnery-Nuna  and  othera  of  my  Acquaintance-Iiiprlsoncd  *** 
%     Nuna  in  Cells— A  Spanish  Nan.  '     i       . 

I  HAVE  mentioned  several  instances  in  which  I  was  sent 
oat  from  the  convent  for  diflferent  purposes.  These 
were  by  no  means  the  only  occasions,  nor  the  only  objects 
for  which  I  went.  And  there  were  «ther  nuns,  many 
others,  who  were  at  diflferent  times  dispatched  to  various 
places,  and  for  divers  reasons.  I  shall  not  go  extensively 
in  these  matters,  partly  from  the  want  of  room,  but  more 
from  considerations  which  I  think  urgent  and  decisive.  I 
will  only  remark  that  the  instances  to  which  I  allude  are 
among  the  least  blameworthy,  and  oflfensive  to  morality  and 
decency- 
There  was  a  place  in  the  nunnery  allotted  to  the  deposit 
of  dresses  of  diflferent  kinds,  to  be  used  as  disguises  ;  and  to 
it  we  commonly  went  when  we  were  preparing  for  a  sortie. 
The  world  believes  that  the  vows  of  nuns  are  strictly 
adhered  to  ;  and  especially  those  which  obUgatg^to  striotly 


moral  behavior,  and  a  close  confinement  for  life.    I  have 


■# 


:/ 


•.* 


24 


'f 


Confessions  of  a  Sister  of  Charitt. 


given  some  intiipatione  that"  the  woridJa.  mistaken  on  both 
these  points.     It  is  .not  only  occasionally  that  nuns  leave .  V 
the  Hdtel  Dipu,  and  go  about  the  city  and' country,  but  it 
'  is  a  thing  of  very  frequent  x)cctvrence!  •  They  go,  however, 
at  such  times,  in  such  disguises,  to  such  pldces,  and  in  such 
comjpapy,  that  they  are  ^Idom  objserved  or  known  as  nuns-; 
'  and  often  a^e  mistaken  for  men,  especially  for  priests.     I " 
havtf  been  dressed  in  various  ways,  and  have  gone  out  ajone 
arid  in  company,  aiid  have  passed,  not  only  for  a  Sister  of  . 
Charity,  or  a  nun,  school-mistress,  br  a  visitor  of  the  poor 
or  ^ick,  but  for  a  man,  9,  priest,  being  arrayed  in  "  Hhe 
garb,"  or  <:;oimuon  dress  of  a  priest,  in  Montreal. 

I  have  BSlt  with  nu»s  in  the  streets, 'since  I  came  t^  the  ' 
United  States,  and  sometimes  those  who  are  bound  on  secret 
errands.  -I  know  how  such  persons  feel,  how  they  are  trained      " 
to  appear  very  demure,  forbidden  to  ispeak  or  even  to  raise, 
their  eyes,  and  to  look  as  if  meditating  on  holy  things  ;  and 
I  know,  from  experience,  how  difficult  it  is  to  play  such  an* 
aSSeeted  part  well.    I  have  seen  several  nuns  hete,  too,  I 
think,  in  merfs  clothes.    If  not,  I  am  greatly  mistaken.    In 
the  'evening  it  is  not  very  difficult^  for  a  woman  to  pass  for  a 
man  in  a  crowd,  when  'ressed  with  care,  and  somewhat 
practised  beforehand,  especiWly  with  one  or  two  real  men 
to  accompany  her.    As  for  priests  itt  the  disguise  of  other 
men,  th^  is  a  matter  of  daiily  occurrence,  I  have  no  doubt, 
in  the  United  States  as  well  as  in  Canada.    If  any  one 
could  see  the  clothing  collected  in  the  dressing-room'  in  our 
nunnery,  he  would  be  surprised.    The  only  wonder  to  me  is   - 


that  a  practice  bo  common  lisnever  been  founTouFBylEe" 


■3 


<*  ■  ^' 


:-0'. 


U        .  ' 


;       *;  V  •     I        Nun's  Island.  ■<    , 

pubSc,  aiid,  lAdeed,  se^s  iiot\  to"  b^  suspected  by  Ame-  - 
ricafis.  '■     ^  f  "'     -  •     ^   V       *  '         '     '    ■    .  ■  ' 

_.    1  have  mentidne^ihat  nuns  were  sent  to  several  different 
places  in  the  couU^y  when  UI,  and  that^sdtae  of  those  jn  ^- ■ 
healtK  sometimes  went  to  nurse  them,  and  otheii  i^  teach  '  i: 
in  thesbhoofs.    I  ha^  yet  to  mention  JTuns'^sland  ^nd  the. 
Priests;  Farm)  two  large  and  well-known  estates  in  the  / 
vicinity  of  Montreal,  whi6h  are  used  aS  places  of  continual  '  '■ 
resort.    Visitors  to  that  <^y  are  shown  them  as  separate     7 
establishments,  exclusively  devoted,  the  one  io  nuns  and 
the  other  to  priests.    Such  is  not  the  ofiinion  extensiveV*^. 
current  among  the  .people  "of  the  ^ city  and  surrounding 
•country,;  and  1  coul4  re^al  facts  of  >  kind  wjiteh  wbul^- 
give  a  very  diferent  jispect  to  both,  fr^m  th^t  wWoJi  thfejr^\>' 
proprietors  claim'  for  (tW,  ^I  forbeai;  at  least  L  tiiV"V' 
present:-   '..."■.■•.  -    " 

I^as  sometimes  sta^iifcd  at  the  place  o^reception,  to      f 
answer  calls  of  persons!  visiting  the  nunnery  for  diferent  ' 
I^rposes,    I  was  then  the  onl/petsbn  visible,  but  not,  the        • 
only  one  within  hearing!    TKe  Superio^,  or  an  old  mai^, 
was  always  or  generaDy  kear  by,  completely  concealed,  but,      . 
nllr  enough  to  overhead  every  word  spoken  by.  others,  of- 
myself,  even  in  a  low  voilpe,    I  was,  therefore,  required  to,      ' 
be  very  careful  what  I  said,  for  pemihces  were  certain  to'    V 
follow  any  offence  comiiutid  iijlhat  place.'   Among  those     * 
with  whom  I  conversed  at  different  tunes,  in  that  place,      ' 
were  various  persons  from  aj  distance,  and  quite  a  number  of 
travellers  from  the  United  ^tes.    Several  of  these  I  stiU 


-^"' 


.™j,-;3BB5a=«*jefrv-  --v~--a?^^  ' 


246         Confessions  of„a  Sister  of  Charity.        ■ 

.      I— 

and  circnmstances  gonn^cted  with  casual  interviewSr    Pos- 
sibly, if  my  recollections  should  ever  be  published,  some  of 
those  persons  m%y  be  reminded  of -their  Visits' at    the 
nunnery,  and  remember  "  the  tall  nun,"  as  I  W|ls  called  by 
some.    If  their  impressions  are  as  vivid  as  my  own,  they 
certainly  cannot  liave  forgotten  jt.    I  presume  I  observed 
them  with  more  interest  than  they  did  me,  for  I  sometimes 
was  excited  with  an  almost  uncontrollable  desire  to  escape 
from  my  gloomy  and  disgusting  prison>  while  conversing 
with  beautiful,  free,  and  happy  youngoladies,  or  men  of  an 
honest,  virtuous  aspect,  whose  condition,  appeared  to  me 
blessed  beyond  all  description.    I  fixed  my  eyes  upon  their 
cheerful  countenances,  admired  their  fresh  and»  ruddy  com- 
plexioh8>   their   happy  looks,  lively  motions,  ready  and 
sincere  knd  innocent  smiles,  and  contrasted  them  with  the 
sallow,  unhealthy,  dispirited,  suspiciouaand  often  despairing 
beings  with  whom  I  had  been  so  long  imprisoned.    I 
thought  of  the  happy  and  affectionate  families  to  which 
they  belonged,  and  sighed,   when  they  left  me,   at  the 
thought  of  my  base,  cruel  jailors  and  oppressors  ;  and  their 
depravity  and  hypocrisy  appeared  more  abominable  and 
intolerable  than  ever.    The  looks  of  some  of  our  visitors, 
therefore,  with  their  actions  and  words,  are  much  more 
vivid  in  my  memory,  than  my  own  can  be  on  theirs. 

•   A  Mrs.  B ,  of  Boston,  once  called  to  see  me,  and 

inqmred  whether  I  was  discontented.  Of  course,  t  could 
reply  only  no,  being  watched  and  overheard  as  usual.  She 
said  she  was  my  aunt.  I  wished  most  heartily  that  I  migh£ 
he  at  li^yty  to  speak  and  act  as  I  felt.    I  tdwtdd^^haTe  goar^ 


V  * 


/■-■ 


The  Prisoners. 


24t 


with  her,  and  most  gladly.  A  young  man,  on  another 
occasion,  inquired  for  me  by  name,  as  she  had  done,  and 
told  me  h&  was  my  cousin..  He  said  his  name  was  Leices- 
ter, and  that  his  father  kept  the  Jighthouse  at  New 
London.  Mr.  Thomas  Emerson  and  Mr.  Curtis  visijted 
the  nunnery  some  years  ago,  and  wished  to  see  me,  but 
said  nothing  of  importance  that  I  remember.  Old  Cache- 
lokayo,  one  of  my  Indian  acquaintances,  afterward  said 
that  the  father  of  one  of  those  gentlemen  was  formerly  an 
Indian  trader.        ..  t 

Among  the  puns  I  knew,  were  Miss  Burroughs,  Louise 
Gaspe,  Margarite  Gtaspe,  Miss  Paget  daughter  of  Mr. 
Paget  (a  poj-tly  man)— Miss  P.  had  not  been  received  when  I 
left  the  convent,  but  I  have  since  heard  that  she  has  been — 
Frances  and  Ann  Stearns,  from  La  Prairie,  Margerite  and 
Marie  Laflamme,  Anna  CoUms,  Sarah  Mount,  and  a  nun 
called  Sainte  Genevieve,  who  died  from"  having  received  an 
injury  in  one  of  her  limbs,  t  might  mention  others,  and 
also  name  several  priests.  ■ 

^  A  number  of  nuns  were  confined  in  small  cells  in  the 
cellar,  bolted  and  kept  by  themselves  for  a  Long  time.  I  did 
not  know  why,  and- believe  they  were  not  precisely  informed 
of  the  reason  of  their  imprisonment.  I  sometimes  carried 
them  their  food,  but  was  allowed  sp  little  time,  and  was  so 
closely  watched,  that  I  had  very  little  opportunity  to 
converse  with  them.  They  usually  appeared  taciturn,  ^s  if 
dispirited  or  ill ;  l^nt  sometimes  they  would  speak  a  few 
words.  Twft  of  the  prisoners  were  called  Angeliqae  and 
Hortcna>.  . 


"3^-   i'.- 


-,.  ■«.» 


.i,-"j,  f"'T  /{.I's^^'-Oi  "'rif* 


^'V,  I 


248 


The  Spanish  Nun. 


I  wfll  mention  two  of  the  nnns  particularly,  becaase 
there  was  something  mysterions  abont  them  both,  although 
they  had  nothing  in  common  in  their  aisposition,  habits,  or^ 
origin.    One  was  rather   a^  aged  one,  fnll  of  wit  and 
ingennity,  and  sometimes  of  a  terrible  character,  even  to 
the  priests.    The  other  was  a  Spanish  girl,  who  spoke 
French  with  a  strong  foreign  accent.    She  said  but  little, 
at  least  in  my  presence,  partly  because  I  saw  her  but 
seldom.    She  was  sad  anh  melancholy.    I  have  heard  her 
console  us  sometunes,  when  any  of  us  explained,  by  saying 
that  our  condition  was  much  less  pa4ful  than  that  of  a 
Spanish  nun,  aS%e  rules  and  penan^s  which  she  ha^,  been 
subject  to  in  Spain  were  more  se  '^ 

N<^  BT  IB.  KDiioB.-It  ia  rema*able,  tbattme  month,  after  this  was  written 
to  article  waepublUied  to  an  American  nu^gitoetofaTor  of  Canadian  conrente. 
««l  deiagnedtoconnteractlmpreMlonacurrft^tthem;  and .  Spwtah nun 
wa.  there  totroduced.  with*  .ketch  of  her  uLTThowlnRunwIttlngly,  aconnec 
tlon  between  cooventa  to  Bpato  and  South  Aiteripa. 


■/ 


Y 


The;  Sanctuary. 


249 


XI. 


strange  men  in  ibe,  Oonreat— Absconding  from  Justice— An  bid  V^enA  takct 

Refuge  Tliere.  '        .       I  -, 


ane 


"HEN  I  grew  old  enough  to  be  allowed  to  go  abont 
the  convent,  and  to  be  able  to  begin  to  form  some 
judgment  of  things  aronnd  me,  I  observed  men  ^ow  and 
then,  in  some  parts  of  the  qonvent,  whom  I  had  never  seen/ 
before,  who.  usually  "disappeared  after  a  short  time,  i 
were  succeeded  by  others.  I  thought  this  very  .strani 
especially  as  they  seemed  to  be  wholly  unoccupied,  and  to 
have  no  visible  object.  Partly  by  hints,  accidisntal  remarks, 
and  my  own  surmises,  I  became  satisfied,  at  length  that 
they  were  men  accused  of  crimes,  ot  who,  for  other  reasons,' 
wished  to  be  concealed  for  a  time ;  and  that  they  usually 
paid  money  for  being  allowed  to  enter  and  remain  in  the 
institution.  ?We  had  many  at  different  times,  from  some  of 
whom  I  learned  certain  things  which  it  might  \k  interesting 
for  the  wolrld  to  know.  It  certainly  appeared  to  me  a 
very  convenient  refuge  for  0me  whom  I  sjapposed  to  be 
crimmals;  and  1  judged  thiat  the  officers /of  justice  and 
other  persons  interested  in  their  capture  must  have  been 


ttly  4xs 


greatly  thwarted  in  thnir  efforts,  by  toe  way  of  escapa 


which  they  so  easily  found.  '     # 


■■?*'; 


.-    /     ■ 


■-.^Xx. 


-r-^ 


y  \' 


'*■  «  *»-^ 


256 


Criminals  in  Convents. 


Some  of  them  appeared  quite  at  their  easeVtile  is  the 
nunnery,  and  were  well  received  by  the  priest  and  Superior, 
in  fact  enjoying  aU  the  freedom  they  could  desire.  No 
secret  was  made  of  their  being  great  friends  and  intimates 
of  theirs,  and  they-freely  joined  in  their  good  dTnners  and 
wine-drinking.  C. 

One.  day  I-  was  surprised  at  the  sudden  appearance  of  a 
man  I  had  formerly  known  when  a  chUd.    He-had  been 
engaged  iu  a  difficulty  mih  some  Indians  at  some  distance 
in  the  country,  in  which  his  life  had  been  threatened  ;  and 
having  reason  to  apprehend  that  some  white.men  were 
secretly  spurring  theto  on  to  injure  him,  and  might  get  him 
miprisoned  on  false  charges,  having  friends  in  the  convent 
he  hastened  to  it,  and  obtained  admission.    I  had  reason  U> 
believe  that  his  fortmie'secm«ed  him  that  favor,'and  that  he 
paid  a  considerable  snm  to  the  priests  for  their  kindness 
That  was  the  only  case  of  the  kind  in  which  I  had  entire 

reason  to  believe  that  an  innocent  man  was  admitted.    His 
behavior  also  proved  that  lie  was  of  a  torent  character  ■ 
from  most  of  the  others^:  for  he  conducted  hinjself  with  the 
utmost  propriety ;  and  the  result  of  his  diffici^ties  made  it 
clear  that  his  enemies  had  been  altoge^wr-laW  wrong 
and  t&t  his  life  and  liberty  were  at  the  time  inWiminejit 
danger.    He  remained  in  the  convent  untU  an  op^rtunity  ' 
w^  fomid  to  send  him  into  "the  States"  without  being 
seized  by  his  enemies  |.  and,  after  some  time  had  elapsed  ^ 
and  their  passions  had  cooled,*  he  thought  it  safe  to  return,' 
and  succeeded  in  arranging  everything  in  a  peaceable  man- 


*  / 


ft. 


The  Bight  op  Sancjtuary. 


251 


^L  Ndtb  by  the  Editob.— These  few  remarks  relate  to  a  very 
important  branch  of  convent  abuses,  of  extensive  prevaleWe, 
and  ancient  date.  Among  the  many  strong  objections 
urged  against  convents,  in  diflferent  ages  and  countries,  is 
their  abuse  of  the  right  pfrefugt,  as  it  is  called.  According 
to  custom  and  papal  laws,  places  nominally  consecrateii  to 
religion  are  inviolable ;  and  convents,  as  well  as  churches, 
Ac,  have  often  been  sought  as  asylums  by  persons  in  fear 
of  capture,  injury,  death,  or  persecution.  In  some  cases,  we' 
doubt  not,  the  innocent  have  thus  been  reasonably  protected 
from  injustice  or  violence ;  and  it  is  much  to  be  lamented, 
that  no  retreat  wa^  ever  provided  for  those  numerous 
victims  of  popjsj/ persecution,  who  were  sacrificed  by 
thousands,  for  v^tues  instead  of  for  crimes..  Bat  the 
greatest  abuses  haveyflffEen  been  committed  under  the  name 
of  holy  refuge,  with  the  histories  6f  which  many  volumes 
might  be  filled.  An  example  or  two  will  sufi&ce  our  present 
purpose.  ■'■,::'  ■:"'■■'  'ill-    '' 

"In  the  year  1169,  Leopold^  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
reformecTthe  system  of.  asylums  in  his  "dominions,  after  a 
long  course  of  olgections,  delays,  and  evasions  made  by  the 
court  of  Home,  to  which  he  had  remonstrated.  Cardinal 
De  Bicci  informs  us,  that  Gratian  first  claimed  for  the 
.ecclesiastical  body  the  power  of  judging  persons  accused  of 
crimes  ;  but  that  not  until  1591,  Pope  Gregory  14th 
wSgm^ted  the  great  abuse  and  scandal  of  asylums.  This 
was  d<me  by  allowing  persons  accused  of  all  possible  crimes, 
except  eight,  which  were  specified,  to  be  protected  in 
T?hgiourtoiBeB,"ttnT  authorizing  ecclesiastical  tribunals  W" 


-f.;'      ' 


"^ 


-^ 


'  •^v 


252 


A  Den  or  Thieves. 


decide  what  refugee?  w^re  and  what  were  not  to  brcon-- 
Biderea  gailty.    The  abuses  became  so  great/  that  they  were 
greatly  restricted  in  Prance  and  several  other  countries ; 
and  prevailed  longest  in  Tuscany.   There,  as  Potter  informs 
ns,  the  vicinity  of  Rome  and  other  circumstances  made  the 
course  for  reform  more  difficult  than  elsewhere.  There,  we  are 
told,  assassins,  fratricides,  poisoners,  incendiaries,  deserters, 
i^obbers,  some  of  the  sons  of  the  nobility  who  wished  to  with-  * 
/draw  themselves  from  paternal  authority,  soldiers  from  their 
/officers,  those  who  had  contracted  debts,  &c.  &c.,  all  took 
refuge  in  the  same  asylum,  were  equally  well  received,  ai# 
Uved  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  disorder.    They  frequently 
disturbed   the  performance  of  divine  service,  and  ofteit' 
maltreated  the  clergy  I  committed  crime  after  crime,  insult.^ 
ed  and  even  wounded  those  who  attended  the  phurch'where 
they  had  been  received  without  shame,  and  were  supported  - 
imd. openly  defended.    There  they  kept  "a  school  for  the 
instruction  of  the  young  in  robbing  and  swindling,  sold  con- 
traband  goods  and  stolen  wares.    They  had  women  among 
them,  slept  under  the  porticoes,  &g.    They  ate,  drank, 
worked  at  their  trades,  and  kept  open  shop  in  the  churches.' 
They  wore\concealed  arms,  arrested  the  passengers,  iu  order 
.  to  ransom  them,  and  fired  at  agents  pf  the  police,  if  they 
happened  to  pass  by.    They  saUied  out  secretly  to  com- 
mence fresh  robberies  and  assassinations,  and  Wnmed 
within  the  sanctuary  of  the  chm-ch,  in  ^rder  to  enjoy," 
without  fear,  the  protection  which  the  t^plo  and  its  minis^ 
ters  granted  them.  ^^:      :'    ! 

The  convents  were  the  greatest  receptacle  of^criminals^ 


i  ^ 


»    ' 


GONY-KNT    OF    SmiTS. 


%m 


whom  the  monks  treated  remarkably  well»  on  account  of  the 
benefit  they  derived  from  their  domestic  labors,  and  because 
they  woold  use  them  as  instruments  for  the  commission  of 
those  frauds  which  ^^  seem  desirous  oi  executin'g,  and  as 
apologies  for  thojgfl|9|dch  they  themselves  were  guilty,  and 
which  they  ^'^^^^^^Hp^Pll^o  to, the  credit  of  their  guests. 
They  employed  H^^^^fularly  in  contraQid  trade,  for 
the  use  of  the  copv||p^^ 
,  A  short  time  previous  to  the  reform  of  the  Asylum,  the 
Ifionks  of  the  convent  of  Spirito,  in  Florence,  carried  their 
impudence  so  far,  as  to  allot  a  chamber  among  the  novices, 
to  the  accommodation  Of  a  robber,  who  had  attempted  to  v 
kill  his  o^n  brother.         ■ 

There  were  in  Tuscany  at  the  suppression  of  the ,  asylum, 
eighty  refugees,  of  whom  a  third  had  feeen  guilty  of  willful 
murder,  and  the  rest  either  of  cutting  or  maiming  persons, 
or  of  committing  extensive  robberies.    Seveial  cf  them  ha^  ' 

4 

escaped  from  the  galleys. 


^. 


4 


<•<  *" 


.^^ 


^ 


<  s 


•-,(  .J 


264 


Disguised  Nuns. 


«.' 


/ 


.  i  XII.       '  * 

DUguisea  of  Nuns,  when  sent  out  of  Wunneries-Blsters  of  Oharity>ot  fonning,  of 
course,  a  distinct  Order-Dresses-lnstructlons-Mannera  obserred  in  PubUo- 
Disgutaod  for School-teacher»-My  School Ina  Canadian  Village. 

/     ■  '  "       . 

A  NY  honest  reader  of  the  rales  or  "constitutions"  of  ' 
JX    different »'  ReUgious  Orders  "  (as  the  written  plans  or 
laws  are  called},  which  are  presented  to  the  world,  would 
naturaUy  presume  that  they  are  all  distinct  and  separate 
from  each  other,  *nd  would  be,  of  aU  things,  most  distent 
from  entertaining  an  idea  of  members  of  one  assuming  the 
garb  of  another,  as  a  disguise,  for  various  purposes.    But 
an  intunate  acquaintaj^e  with  the  practices  actualljteidsting 
in  convents,  papist  schools,  the"  streets,  and  elsewhere,  wiU 
lead  to  very  opposite-^pinions  ;  and  I  shall  give  a  few  facts, 
to  show  some  of  the  purposes  for  which,  and  modes  in  which, 
such  measures  are  pr&,ctised.  "    .,  t, 

The  priests  seem  to  think  it  highly  important  to  keep 
as  many  of  their  own  teachers  in  the  country  schools  as 
they  can.  They  therefore  send  out  nuns  here  and  there 
to  keep  school  for  the  children  in  different  places,  in  vaxioitf 
ways,  and  under  different  appearances.  I  was  sJnt  by  them 
m  several  instances,  but  do  not  pretend  to  know  in  full 


■^, 


M-'    :■  /> 


■;■  *  <■" 


The  Secret  Explaination. 


/.; 


255 


their  exact  moliiyes  inneverj  case,  or  all  the  arrangenlents 
by  which  theif  ends  were  accomplished.         -•  n" 

I  onc6  wjBut  to  the  town  of ,  in  GanadH^according  to 

the  directions  I.receisii'fed,  in  the  dress  of  a  Sister  of  Charity, 
or  one  which  might  pass  for  snch';,  and  was  examined  by 
a  school  officer  to  whom  I  had  been  directed,  and  was 
received  as  the  school-mistress  for  the  season.  I  am  natur- 
ally fond  of  children,  and  also  fond  of  instracting  them 
in  what  I  know,  though  that  may  not  J)e  much.  I  soon  began 
to  grow  fond  of  several,  of  my  pupils,  and  found. they" liked  me, 
as  children  usually  do  those  who  treat  them  kindly.  But 
occurrences  t^^  place  which"  rendered  it  necessary  for  hie 
•  to  take  another  plaqe,  and  I  wrote  to  the  pfersOn  who  had 
sent  me,  that  I  wished  to  be  sent  for.  I  received  a  message 
in  reply  thdt  a  messenger  Would  be  in  a  particular  apart- 
ment  of  the  village  inn,  at  a  particular  day  and  hour,  whom 
I  might  know  by  his  telling  me  that  my  father  had  sent  for 
me.  I  went  thitherj  accordingly,  and  a.  man  approaching 
me,  said  in  a  low  voice:  "Your  father  has  sent  for  you, 
and  wants  you  at  home."         "       * 

I  soon  made  iixe  necessary  preparations,  jomed  my  convoy, 
and  proceeded  to  lii^ontreal.  What  was  thought  of  me 
in  the  school  ot- in  the  town,  I  could  only  conjecture,  after 
my  sudden  departure.  I  had  very  little  to  say  by  way 
of  excuse,  and  did  not  attempt  to  say  much.  It  was  the 
business  of  my  masters,  the  priests,  and  they,  perhaps,  took 
measures  to  give  a  favorable  dr  ireasonabte  aspect  to  th^ 
affair,  or  perhaps  they  have  supplied  my  place  with  another 
teacher,  perhaps  a  better  or  a  more  acceptable  one.     I  am 


•^''  \ 


.^i> 


256 


AcTiNo  Blindly,  f 


sore  they  would  not  have  fo^d  one  more  fond  of  the  *«k 
or  more  disposed  to  ezerciee  an  affectionate  and  attentive 
over«ght  Of  the  children.  Bnt.  the  priests,  on  that" 
oa  other  oc«a«„n.,  did  not  think  proper!  acquaint  me  ;ith 

plans  for  the  paet.or  for  the  future ,  anS  I  had  long  been 
accustomecf  to  act  without  knowing,  or  exUin.  to  know 
anjt  .ng^satisjaetory  concerning  the  dilferel  ^l  of  bj. ' 
ness  lu  which  I  was  employed. 


The  Pope  and  the  CoNVENig. 


251 


fj. 


•li.: 


A 


XIII. 


Government  of  Convents— Jfhe  Pope,  the  Beafor  Nominal  Head— The  AdmlniBtra- 
tlon— Councils— Trials— The  Condemned  Priest  said  to  have  been  Killed— Crimes 
of  PrlestSt  Ac.  %»  • 


I  HAVE  had  opportunities,  at  different  times,  to  judge 
of  the  plan  on  which  the  government  of  the  convents 
^  in  which  I  have  been,  is  conducted,  and  will  give  the 
reader  what  I  know,  or  rather  what  I  believe.  But  I 
would  apprise  all  th^  I  do  not  positively  affirm  everything 
from  my  own  personal  experience,  because  I  have  been 
obliged  to  (and  do)  rely  upon  the  Elements  of  others,  and 
upon  some  of  my  own  deductions  or  conjectures,  formed  from 
what  I  saw  or  heard.  In  fhese,  or  in  some  of  them,  I  may 
have  made  mistakes  ;  and  I  am  especially  desirous  that  a 
distinction  may  be  kept  in  mind  here,  as  in  other  parts  of 
my  book,  between  what  I  claim  to  inow  from  personal 
acquaintaince,  and  what  I  do  not.  ,4. 

The  Pope  of  Bome  is  unquestionably  acknowledj^,  ver- 
bally and  th^reticalljr  at  least,  as  the  source,  cflptre, 
and  origin  of  all  power  in  the  government .  of  convents. 
Beports  are  made  or  said  to  be  made  to  him,  by  persons 
appointed;  and  ordpta jand^-othe^ coipaunicfttionar  dther^ 


'  ■■  V 


1 


#   ..-* 


2S8 


SoLEiiN  Oiias  or  SicREsr. 


Mot"  r  '■'"  '""  '"^  "«>  J^o-Me-Zor  Good 

«.« 0  underb,™,  eo.s«t„te  tie  Ad,.,iofetmtte,.*r authority 
wh,ch  represents  hta.    I  We  heard  tt  said,  L  in  e^^ 

the  precedence  ,n  expressing  Jer  opinion  or  will.    Bnt  I 
ha  e  ^ever  heard  „,  h,  claiming  any  .nthority,  or  contra^ 
•Hictmg  them.    Neither  do  I  think  tl,»t  ,i,  ,V 

Yield  In  !..„  •  ™  i  think  that  they  wonld  ever 

^h  ^v  I '";"' ■T''""'  «^''.  »'  «-»«ble  themselves 

mth  them  m  «.y  fa.orit,  measure.    I  thinlc,  from  what  f 
tave  seen,  that  they  .oM  rather  take  the  shZand 
easier  meth«,,  of  getting  her  put  of  the  «y  by  solell 
or  other,  and  putting  another  in  he.  place,  who  Z^ 
likely  to  comply  with  their  wishes    , 

chi^f  T'"  T''  "  '^  """"""^  '"'  the  administrition  or 
chief  rulers  of  a  convent  to  summon  a  council  of  old'  n^ 

toes  o   „.,  «„„  «,,,„„^  „f  ^^^,^^     ^^^__  ^ 

b    tried  for  an- oifence  deemed'  criminal,  the  aceuJd  i^     ■ 
allowed  to  choose  si.^  and  the  «.u.ers  o,r„le«  s^es    . 
prepara  ions  having  been  made;  solemn  oaths  are  re,u^ 

Then  the  tral  commences,  and  is  prosecuted  in  secret,  and     " 
tte  to  of  the  «=cused  is  decided,  in  the  utmost  pri  .cy 
though- It  be  for  life  o;  death,  tad  the  ■       '    ^' 


ientencff  is  Brccntod) 


■■•'■v/ 


i=»!i- 


-^¥^ 


-^^ 


'■)! 


■4 


Mock  Trials  in  Cokvents. 


259 


(St 


f«?  however  severe,  without  the  possibility  of  appeal  or  escape> 
and  nothing  ever  transpires  beyond  the  walls  of  the  convent, 
or  even  beyond  the  walls  of  the  retired  and  closely  fiecloded 
diepaftments  of  the 'edifice,  appropriated,  to  such  scenes  of 
gloQiu  and  horror.  .' 
Four  of  the  members  of  a  coancil  may  disapprove  of  a 
.sentence  passed  by  the  otherS)  or  may  think  tlfe  case  should 
be  published  to. the  world.  Some  feeble,  unprotected  female, 
who  has. been  intrusted  to  the  mild,  meek,  and  apparently 
pure  and  holy  "religious,"  when  accused,  condemned  and 
seMenced  by  such  a  tribunal  to  a  dungeon  to  starve  to  death, 
may  express  her  dread  or  hpr  anguish  in  terms  which  will 
affect  the  natural  feelings  pf  some  one  .of  her  judges  ;  or,  at 
a  later  day  the  recollection  of  the  victim,  and  the  conscious" 
ness  of  the  imposture  practised  on  her  confiding  friends 
without  the  convent,  may  disturb  the  conscience.  To  pre- 
vent this  from  leading  to  any  public  disclosures,  the  confes- 
P  8or  is  pointed  at,  as  prepared  to  undertake  the,i||loval  of 
her  buBBfen,*  by  af||^^  for  her  sin  by  his,  holy  prayers  and 
masses  ;  and  she  is  invited  to  tell  all  her  compunptions  and 
receive  the  assurance  ttf  ffeliverance  from  the  punishment  of 
God,  whose  power  is  intrul^lo  him.    ,,    L^^.  '*    - 

It  is  but  seldom  that  form^  trials  of  anj^pid  are  he 
the  Canadian  Convents,  as  Tar  asThave  means  of  judging  ; 

.     tout  I  have  "known  or  heard  of -several,  and  had  reason  to 

;.    believe  that^  they  usua.lly  resulted  in  severS  punishments. 
The  most  severe,  I  thiok>  was  that  of  the  evangelical  priest, 

.    before  qientioned.    I  sliall  not,  pretend  to  give  a  full  history 


I^ 


# 


:\  ' 


'^■'1 


«,  • 


26a 


l^fliaTe'saia  lief%-J[  m 


A  Fbllow-IPriso; 


k  m  <*^  trial  of 


.     som^kiod^  and tlgf  .,,  ^confidTtJ^^e  wa^ 


■. 


lat  hiahSpldj 

manner,  m  li^  s^jl^BiV^ 

'er  of  times  ^^Me  he  was  ^Qpfined 

^tutal  feelings.of  humanity,  it  seemed, 

dst.  for  T  wftH  nrtf  lls+„t  1 J  J*V  .    , 


•    /       ^      o-' -- ~-»">«v»y ,  It  Hcemea, 

V^   r^^^^^.  *°  W»««e  with  hi^hieh  I  did  bj 

Wi„*"'t"'-"°°"'"  '"?■"''»  "dfapeAate,, spoke 
,.  %«»  .oW.'.bat  (Ni  and  unwayemg  toBeLid  he  wa, 

.  (au^Uan  aecordu^  to  the  Gospel ,,  that  he  h^  „d  fear  of 

when  he  th<,aght.of  At  might  be  done  to  his  body  after 
4-th,ash.w.sh^{o*edeeent>ybnried.    Hewas  ht ' 

.^he  had  aonght  of  a  ™y  in  which  we  ndght  bith  Lape 

e^'irf"'  '•^"'''"'■^*''-'^'-tedStat«,,wenUgS 
expose  a.,  cries  of  the  priests  in  the  convents.    I  oi&Ll  • 

«rfety  for  the  hope  of  saving  ns  boa.    We  higiforiWed 
a  pUn,  on  which  we  afterwards  ,«aln  confe   ^^^"^ 
1  hare  gi^some  of  my  «endS  so: 
snccessfo),  at  leasts 


>> 


•t.' 


^ 


r 


/ 


'  bat  as  ijt  wjQ 


y^ 


fierne*,  anPi|ed,  perhaps  wa^  not  jl„ 
even^  possible  of  exe(4tion,  I  deem  it  ni,„ 
•iten  here.    It  might,  perhaps,  .tf..^  I^ 


# 


ieplan.j^ 
!$  was  con- 
devised,  or 
it  to  be 
to  the  ^ 


■■-»  • 


l_tjj — 


»■•■  r" 


I 


!      V 


^ 


tari-auged    .  '      ^ 

1           ■    .'■■■.■   * 

was  con-           '4 

svised,  or     .     --V 

mt  to  be 

m    4- A     ±1_ 

o  wi  iiiio 

^^V  '^v*'. ^  ■  r:';*  .:_:.:  '■■ 

•  4  ".   ^  •  » -  - - 

— — ?~^-^ 7 — ^ — : jfTTfr--^ -■ 

A  Dark  Deed. 


261 


keepers  of  nunneries,  by  which  they  might  beled  to  t^iwart  ' 
the  plans  of  gome  of  their  vfcjtiini  in  fntur^.  But  there  is 
Another  reason,  My  mind  was  in  &  state  of  great  excitement,  •« 
and  might  not  now  be  able,  from  recollection,  to  give  a  fair 
acfl9unt  of  the  ingenious  and  daring  scheme  which  He  chiefly 
formed,  as^  he  is  not  living  to  correci  my  memory,  or  to 
explain  some  things  Which  I  may  not  have  fully  uhderstood. 

Suffice  it  then  ^o  say,  that  we  were  doomed  to  a  sad  an^" 
fatal  disappointment.    His  intention  was  suspected,  if  not 
actually  discovered  5  he  was  charged  i^ith  a  design  to  escape, 
and  that  probably  determined  his  enemies  to  shorten,  his 
term  Of  life.    I  can  only  add,4l(lt  with  his  last  words  he 
exhorted  me  to  hj  while  1  could,  as  he  felt  confident  that  I . 
was  not  discovered,  suspected,  or  watched,  and  that  his  fate 
,  was  not  important-  to  me  or  the  world.    He  would  soon 
be  in  a  better  world; /he  fSrgave  his  persecutors  and  joy- 
^  fully  hopii  t^be  forgiven,  for  the  sake  gS  the  Redeemer, 
*  through  the  mercyv^oi  Qod.     .  •  •  •  '        * 

Soon,  after,  a  man  who  sometunes  performed  the  part  of  a 
surgeon,  trassed  the  place  where  I  was,  and  after  a  brief 
spate  re]>assed.    I^heard  some  broken  expressions  from 
\B,,0^^oii0^  paid  little  ftttention,  intimating 
erfe  was  " b&d^§s<kiewheje — "  growing  weaker" — 
^'dead."     An^  •uncertainperic^  of  extreme  anxiety  aad   . 
eflfort  pasied  with  me  ;  t  kifewWU  Ut1^$fswfi^X;was,  "or  .' 
'whom  I  s^w,  mough  I  felt  'that  t  w|^.  making  d%>erate" 
j^exertions  pf  body  and  m^j  Vith  annate  hopes' and  fear^' 
of  the^^ wildest  kind  strnggljng^a  my  j^rt,  and  1tlmos|^ 
pieces.    At  leng%Il»^a~c^^Sig^esa  of 


*w». 


lie 

^ 

'■ 

' 

■  * 

»         *  * 

.  > 


t'^^>«'. 


'w^r.' 


•-4» 


,t 


V 


"   r 


.\'. 


■\  ■  / 


■v 


262 


LiFB  OF  A  Papist. 


■<^ 


\  \ 


safety,  tranquiUity,  security,  and  my  first  desire  was  for 
rest  and  sleep.    I  slumbered  hour  after  hour,  and  when  I 
awoke  I  was  in  a  quiet  chamber  in  a  ki^d  American  house,' 
i    nn  a  lorely  Tillage  in  the  State  of  New  Yo^k.     • 
^^  But  how  I  have  wandered  from  my  sul^l     I- must 
T^esume  the  thread  of  my  narratire  in  this  chapter.    My 
V       statements/ 1  know,  are  disconnected.    Jhave  told  one  part 
\      of  my  story  more  in  ^etail.th^  I  designed,  but  it  may  be 
«i  a^manner  necessary  that  so  much  of  it   should  be 
>;    recorded.         ^v  1  '     ' 

•     I  intended  ;io  mentioa  that  most  of  tie  disciplta;  .„d 
P»n»hme„ta  inflicted,  „e  imposed  without  eyea  the  shadow* 
of.fe^t^Voraoytrial  at  aU  bejond  the  mere  decision 
of  a  pnest ;  and  as  almost  fte  whole  of  a  convent  life  con- 
s.ste  of  pe„«„ces  of  yarions  Idnds,  the  fo«n^  triai  by  . 
tnbnnal,  and  somethneS  by  a  skeleton  ofVjnry,  may 
properly  be  regarded  as  a  mere  mockery  of  justice  and 
»ercy     Indeed,  this  is  one  of  the  most  correct  and  striking 
^pec^m  which  the  entire  system  of  popery  can  fee  received^ 
for  what  >s  the  life  of  a  papist  bnt  «.innmbekable  series  of 
accns«tu>ns  by  others,  or  self-impeachments,  Wcomp.nied 
by  snmmonses  and  trials  before  individnai  Jests,  called 
fatherH^nfessors,  with  the  consequent  condemWons,  by 
those  s,ngle  judges,  to  such   pains,  penalties,  taxes,  or 
''"^"'S  »f  »' »""«'y  ""'"' they  may  choose  tb  pro:  ■ 

,  ,;    .,  of  God,  «.d  threats   of  eternal  perdition?    .feow  this 
,^  ,:      ,;         degrades  men,  and  debases  or  destroys  (ianitj  I 
The  innBt  a .    ■ — ^ !-^^ ^_ 


l! 


flKgront  .ices  U.  which  th«  power  and  mflneaw 


-'V 


Abuses  in  t^hb  •  Confessional. 


m^i 


263 


of  the  priests  led  them,  were  of  sach  a  nature,  that  /cannot 
describe  or  even  name  them.  I  will  refer,  in.as  j/oflFensive 
a  manner  as  I  can,  to  a  case  or  two,  which  ar/ not  fit  to 
appear  in  a  book,  but  exactly  adapted  to  figiufe  among  the 
most  atrocious  crhnes  in  a  criminal  court,  an/ to  call  for  the 
severest  punishment  jjf  law,. and  the  deepeft. execration  of 
society. 

In  the  Gre/Nunflfery  there  had  somehow  l?een  introduced 
three  members  of  one  family  :  a  wonuta  about  sixty  years 
old,  her  daughter,  about  thirty-nin/ (both  widows),  &n{ 
a  grand-daughter,  fourteen.  I  baUpd  they  had  sough! 
refuge"  there  from  poverty  and  misfforfeune.  They  are  there 
now.  One  of  the  priests  said  to  Another  person  inmy  head- 
ing, that  he  had  abused  them  all  at  confession.  On  another 
occasion,  when  he  w^s  drunk,  lie  repeated  what  he  had  sa 
and  more.  It  was  frequent^  the  case  thfet  they  denied 
when  sober  what  they  had  affirmed  while  intoxicated,  saying 
that  the^sins  of  the  people  yere-so  great  an^  terrible  that  t^ey 
made  them  crazy,  and  tMt  they  are  go  much  accustome 
hear  wicked  things  saidf  that  they  repeat  them  alipost  Wit! 
out  knowing  it,  and  JW  distress  of  mind.  One  prilst  I 
knew,  however,  who/eally  seemed  to  be  conspientious  for  a 
time,  and  struck  wipi  true  compunction  ;  for  he  said  hJ  him- 
self  ^l^ore  wichfed  than  his  penitents,  find  he  liad  ieter- 
"»n§|fflp^r  to  ybnfess  any  person  again.  Another  Lriest 
exclajpe^;  "W^t,  do  you  repent  of  doing  your  duty, 
and  intend  nev/r  to  perform  it  again  ?   it  is' time  fof  jou  to 

go  ^'Calva)te,>  and  purge  <^way,your\sins  !"    Kot,  long 
■  attei^  -^ ^-^— ^1^ 


1fct^^yye,>  and  purge  <^way„your\sins  !"    Kot 
^'%is,  I  jCeard  that  a  "coun^Swasxall^'d,  to  be  Iw 


H- 


h^d  at 


J 


"V 


/ 


"Calvaire." 


*.y 


H 


"^•w^ 


^^^^  Calvaire,"  and  I  Mver  saw  the  conscientious  priest  a^a, 
#nor  heard  of  him.  ^M^g^/jfl^^^  of  him,  whether  he  is 
;    living  or  dead,  I  cmRi  tell.    He  hajftbeilre  been  occasion- 
ally  seen  in  the  convent,  «but  never  after  that  time. 

I  could  repeat  conversations  I  heard,^>,which  proved  that 
some  of  the  nuns  had  been  quite  convinced  by  the  priests, 
that  the  latter  were  incapable  of  committing  crimes,  and 
that  whatever  they  did  was^of  course,  right,  pure,  and  holy. 


4* 


TPbuls  pF  Patriotic  Writers".  265 


7^' 


y 


XIV. 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 

Motlru  of  the  Early  Opponents  of  Popery  in  the  United  States — Obstacles  raised 
against  them  by  Priests,  by  Americans — Classes  of  OpponentSi— The  Bishops  and 
and  the  FOpe  have  been  too  confident  and  bold,  and  have  greatly  hastened  their 
own  Rufrt-^Encouraglng  Aspect  of  present  Circumstances— Some  Features  of 
Popery^ow  well  understood  by  Americans— Convents  need  Exposure— Thejr 
must  soon  be  suppressed. 

HEN  the  popish  iostitations  in  the  United  States 
were  first  serioasly  assailed  by  intelligent  and  patri- 

writers,  as  being  opposed  ta  republican  principles,  and 
dangerotis  to  private  welfare,  and  to  the  preservation  of 
American  freedom,  great  opposition  was  expressed.  The 
Romish  priests  and  their  people  denied,  denonnced,  and 
even  threatened  the  authors,  in  secret  as  well  tf^lliicly, 
while  multitudes  of  Protestants,  ministers  as  wel|i||Bpiaen, 
denounced  the  efforts  made  to  bring  out  the  truth, .  as 

ristian,  unjust,  false«  and  libellous.    It  proved  that  a 


K 


very  general  ignorance  prevailed  in  this  country  of  some 
of  the  most  established  truths  of  history,  and  that  a  won- 
derful incredulity  existed,  which  was  fostered  by  an  ill* 
placed  charitableness  among  the  people.  Gradually  the 
eyes  of  the  public  were  opened,  greatly  favored  by  the  rash 
confidence  of  the^  papal  hierarchy  among  us.    Now,  few 

■     12  ■  .  i 


x' 


966 


:& 

i^- 


fdLmoAL  Deiulgoguiis. 


men  are  to  be  found  who  are  safficienty  doped  and  per- 
verted not  to  see  in  popery  a  political  much  more  than  a 
religious  system;  and  the  legislatures  of  several  States  hftve 
recently  begun  to  pass  laws  necessary  to  restram  the  power 
oS  that  imperium  in  imperio.  :        j: 

There  is  a  great  and  important  characteristic  of  the 
_  people  of  the  United  States,  which  should  neyer  be  over- 
looked by  those  who  would  judge  them'  aright,  especially  in 
relation  to  any  practical  matter.     They  do  not  ad  witAmtt 
conviction,  nor  heeotne  convinced  without  evidence. 
This  is  a  truth  long  well  known  to  Americans  generally, 
,  but  unknown  to  certain  foreigners,  acquainted  only  with 
people  of  other  nations';  and  recent  events  hav&  made  it 
more  obvious  and  striking  than  ever  before. 

All  observers  of  the  Romish  controversy,  which  has  been 
carried  on  entirely  in  our  country,  dtqring  the  past  twenty 
years  or  more,  must  be  aware  that  the  one  party  have  pro- 
ceeded in  a  manner  appropriate  to  our  countrymen,  while 
the  others  have.  not.     The    opponents  of  popery,  have 
/  appealed  to  arguments  and  facts,  and  relied  on  them  alone  j 
;  while  its  advocates  have  resorted  to  false  displays  and  pre- 
J  tences,  avoided  fair  discussion,  and  claimed  authority  above 
human  reason.    WhUe  these  have  been  their  open  means, 
they  have  relied  chiefly  on  secret  machinations  with  politi- 
cal men  ;  and,  by  intrigue,  influenced  elections,  and  often 
gained  advantages  by  bargams  with  some  of  our  most 
"  unprincipled   demagogues.      Still,  the    friends   of  tpith, 
liberty,  and  Christianity  have  persevered,  believing  that  the 
incalculable  baseness,  falsehood,  hypocrisy,  and  inhumanity 


A— 


^ 


"John  Hughes." 


26r 


of  the  popish  system,  which  appears  incredible  and  impossible 
to  Americans,  accustomed  only  to  the  parity  which  belongs 
to  Protestant  society,  would,  at  length,  be  exposed,  beobTioqis 
and  acknowledged,  and  then  be  rejected  and  i%strainecf  by 
lawful,  salutary,  necessary,  and  efficient  laws  and  regulations, 
as  well  as  by  the  disgust  and  apprehensions  of  an  intelligent 
and  virtuous  public,  -■  • 

That  change  has  recently  commeikced  on  a  wide  scale, 
and  has  extended  with  a-rapidity  which  could  scarcely  hav(j 
been  hoped  for.  It  has  been  greatly  assisted  h^  the  rash 
confidence  of  some  of  the  principal  agents  of  poperj^  them- 
selves, and  to  snch  a  degree  have  they  been  foolhardy,  ioi 
blind  reliance  on  their  supposed  influence  in  our»  country,' 
that  they  have  more  eeinpletely  unmasked  their  own 
character,  and  the  aims  and  tendencies  of  popery,  than  all 
their  opponents  could  have  hoped  to  do  in  many  years. 
The  mission  of  that  infamous  man,  Bedini,  his  arrogant 
claims  ani^^pocritical  pretentions  j  the  attempts  of  priests  ; 
to  put  down  free  discnssion  in  Canada.  If ew  York  and  else- 
wh^re,  by  indting  mobs  ;  the  impudence  of  foreign  associa- 
tiojis  ;  John  Hughe^<  explosions  of  passion,  „w1th,  his  mad 
exposure  of  his  wholp.  character*  ^nd  obnoxious  position,  ' 
when  stripped  by  thed|j|B|slature  of  New  York,  of  only  one 
ortidn.bf  his  powMfl  i^^possessions  ;  these,  together  with 
tie  impious  farce  of1me<».tiew^dogma  riecently  promulgated 
t>y  the  Pope  and  his  heathen  court,  have  opened  the  eyes  of 
I  Americans  by  the  million,  to  the  true  nature  and  aims  of 
popery,  so  widely  that  they  are  not  likely  ever  to  be  closed. 

fe  opponents  of  popery  had  expected  that  the  papist 


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The  Traitor'Popb. 


bisHojM  ^otild  be  emboldened  by  their,  teflaporary  success  ; 
in  gaining  fi  few  converts^  and  many  corrupt,  political 
„cd-operators,  to  throw  oftsbme  of  their. disguis^  and  i^xpose 
a  portion  of  the  real  features  of  the  system,  whifch  Ameri- 
cans were^so  8l0W  to  comprehend.  But  n,o  one  expected 
that  those  foreign  emissaries,  who,  under  the  guise  of  Ohris- 
.tian   bishop.s„#id- sd^loflg,-  apsiduousjf^,  and  ,  continually  • 

^  devised  and, carried  on  their  plahs'in  ^secret,  could  be  so 

'  blind  aiid  incautious  as  to  treat  the  Amefrican  people  like 
the  degraded,  oppressed,  and  Buperstitions  inhabitants  of , 

-papal  Europe.     Ho  one  would  have  been  pervaded  two    , 
.  years  ago,  that  a.11  the  rapacity  for  church  piioperty' .sitfce     " 
displayed,  would  be  expressed,  or  that  such  a  profligate  and'  .^ 

■  murderer  as  Bedini  would  be  sent  here  to  denounceourJ^tateT 
laws,  and  trample  then^ under  foot,  by  the  authority  6f  his. 
master,  the  hypocrite,  murderer,  and  traitor,-  Pope  Pius  IX'.' >  ffij 

No  man  can  look  at  the  unprecedented,  universal,  political,  v 
revolntioA  which  has  been  eflBscted  in  the'¥nited  States 
mt\\m  a  niw  months,  and  donbt  for  a  moment  that  the  doom 
of  poperWi^  this  country  is  pealed.     Honest  patriots  of  all 

,  parties  Mave  laid  aside  other  objects  aijd "  considerations,     ' 
to,  unite  for  the  overthrow  of  theft  foreign  monstef,  which 

•  ha*  long  been  lurking  in  secret,  but  ha3  now  been  dis- 
co Wed  j  and  new  laws,  already  passe/T  by  4fome  of  our 
llslatures,  now  command,  in  a  voipe  of  thunder,  that 
^h6»pestilentia)r flood  shall  come  no  further.  Foreign  regi- 
naents  are  disbanded,  and  arms  are  tAe^i  from  those  who 
have  not  American  hearts  to  direct ^hiQjf^  time  of.  trial,, 
td  use  them  aright.       .*    ,        -      'al^j^v"'        #^  s  *  • 


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■",:*""       '"  'jiif'""'        ■■'"  ■^•\  'n:' 


American  FAREimt  and  NuNNERinSi 


269 


.;\  ■•■ 

— ' — ^^ 

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i\  - 

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if':.;...  . 

1 

.  Every  part  of  tbe  great;  machine  called  popery,  is  pf  such  ' 
•a  nature  as  to  require  study  to  be  folly  undfirstooa;  Eve^y 
part  is  complex,  and  adapted  to  operate  in  particular  ways,  ; 
upon  particular  classes  of  people,  and  for  particular  ends, 
though  subservient  to  the  whole  lystem,  and  secretly 
dire<jted  by  the'Sbme  head.  E^ery  part  has  also  an  exterior 
andt  an  interior  ;  the  former  ils  assumed  and '^false;  but    ■ 

t  protruded,  ppon  public  atteotion  in  order  to  make  deceitful 
impressiqus  ;  and-  the  other  is  secret,  concealed  and  difficult 
of  iqLiscovery,'  cautiously  guarded    and   surrounded,  with 
arrangements  invented,  prepared,  and, ready  to  be  used,  to  * 
quiet  suspicion  or 't;o  mislead  it.  ^^  '^    3!„ 

.1  Among  these  are  nunneries,  which  form  one  of  the  favor-  ^ 

Ifte  iirfttitutions  of  popery  in  Protestant  countries,  aijd  w)iich  ' 
*have*  been  employed  with  -much -effect  in  th^ -TJnlted  States.    ; 

''Many  American  parents,  and  indeed.many  fathers,  mothers.   ' 
and  guardians  in  our  land,  calling  themselves  Protestants,     s 
an4  who  consider  themselves  Evangelical  "Christians,  are  still 
so  inconsiderate  as  to  seiid  their' children  and  w;ards  to  '  "^ 
pppish  schools  and  nunneries.    In  j^ne  parts  of  the  coiiritry    ', 
this  isV  very  comnion.     How  thoughtless,' how  ignorant 
must  they  b6,  thus  to  expose  tkeajv  to  sustain  an  irrepara- 
'^'^^Jble  injury,  and  to  probable  ruiih-  \The /reputation  which 
au(a»  ini^tutions  haVe,  as  places  of  educaticin',  is  false  apd 
unmerited.   ,B^ett  if  they  teach  French  or  son^  other  frivo- 
*     lous  pr  secondary  branch  better  than  other  schools  near  them, 
they  teach  none  of  the  grand  and  indispensable  sciences 
thoroughly  or  correctly,  if  at  All;  wlnle 'their,  chief  design     ^ 
and  effort  is  to  pervert  thei^ind  and  conscience,  estrange 


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Horrors  op  a  Nunnery. 


the  hearts  of  the  cliildren  from  their  Bibles,  their  parents  and 
'  familie|,  ajxd  their  God.  Many  of  them,  especially  rich  and 
beautifilfr  young  females,  when  once  beguiled  into  the  power 
of  the  priests,  are  treated  worse  than  prisoners  in  our  peni- 
tentiaries, and,  as  in  other  countries,  come  to  early  grave|  in  . 
misery  and  shame.  ^.  '' 

The  accompanying  true  narratives  are  noWgiven  to. the" 
American  people,  to  aid  in  exposing  convents  to  their  vie<? 
that  they  may  be  opened  and  abolished  by  law. 


TORRORS   OF  A   NUNNERY. 
(Written  after  an  Interriew  with  a  yoi^g  lady  who  had  fled  from  a  conyent) 


What  spectres  pursue  mcj  what  visions  afTrlght, 
Whenever  the  day-beams  give  place  to  the  night; 
'  Then  gloom,  dread,  and  horror  my  bedside  attend-- 
v»  0,  then,  above  aU  things,  I  lo^^^  for  a  friend. 

Unklndness  and  terror  so  oft  and  so  long 
Have  been  my  companlqps;  my  foes  are  so  strong, 
I  fear  the  calm  evening,  and  e'en  the  fair  mom ;      | 
Oh,  Would  my  past  fi4edom  and  peace  might  return  I 

False  religion  has  clouded  the  sky  o'er  mr  head, 
And  Rome  sends  her  demons  to  fill  me  with  dread ; 
finpersUtlon  surrounds  me  with  darkness  and  fear ; 


•Sweet  friends  of  my  chUdhood,  oh,  would  you  were  nei^l,/ 


Harshf  rude,  and  unfeeling  are  they  who  control— 
These  dl^eary  abodes  send  a chlU  to  my  soul; 
.  .      Vlle,prl«sts-at  their  summops  compel  toe  to  bow—  > 
'  # ,    '  Uy  father  and  guardian.  Oh,  where  art  thonf 


:___,_  Long  a  pris'ne^  oppf v«'d,  lone,  and  Hinly.yri  |He^ 
',   *V:f4''«'''**''*'''^<>'>'  I'"»nowundec«I?'d; 


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■'/      "-'  . 
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to  their  view*, 


HOBBOBS    Op    A    IjfcNNBBY. 

Bat  my  tyrants  iu-e  round  me,  and  fill  mewlthdresA;   /. 
Noble  brothers  I  sweet  mother,  oh,  come  to  my  aid  t 

Believe  not  the  falsehoods  the  wretches  will  tell,  .-    ** 
When  they  say  I  am  happy  and  choose  this  dark  cell ; 
Haste,  open  my  prison,  delay  not  to  come, 
Unbolt  my  damj(»  dungeon,  and  cany:  me  home  I     ' 


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CgAPTBR  VIIL     y 

jnni.  NARRATIVE    RESUMED.      - 


.        ^     .    .,        '^''BO'NuBS-^e  tipsy  ftle.t::iliradesv^^^^ 

;  ■    ,  ;  ■  V  ^°^"  "-'^''«  Letter-An  exclfiilg  Incident-An  e^aged  Superior, 

/^  T  ^^^^  '^'^^  ^e  able  to  express  myself  in  »  more  con- 

"^-     ■      X    nect^d  panuCT,  as  this  part  of  my  narrative  is  writteti 
^^,  under  more  favorable. auspices.    The  nervous/ disconnected 
-:  :  v^yle  of  a  portion  of  the  preceding  pages  mn^t  bq;ve  been  ' 
/^s^rved  by  the  attentive  reader,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  am 
-u6^  enabled  to  relieve  my  indulgent  friends   from  the 
necessity  of  read^  -^ny  more  of  a  journal  written  in  the 
broken  %le  of  tiie-parts  I  have  alludjBd  to.        ,  .; 

•    V        •  The  Iricks  0^i^  in  the  conveM  were  numerous,  andl 
varied  in,  theii^:^aracter.    Some  I  witnessed,  some  I  only 
ij^  heard  of.     I  waslhe  victim  of  many.    By  triclts  \  do  not 

^,    /.  intend    to    include    such    abominable    cheats   impostojes - 

'fr  ;    ^  ^^^  ^^  common,  and  which  are  calculat64  to  jSdpce  . 
.  '    grievous  and  lasting  injury  to  those  upon  whom  they  are  ' 

-r  :  .  ;.  i.P''''''*^'®^-  ^'^'^^  ^"^  io8*ance  as  the  system  of  falsehoods 
"  ,     *nd  hypocritical  pretensions  which  are  used  in  persuading 

..;,,;  youpg  girig.  to  ti^  the  j^.  J  refer  now  to^uch  little 
"|J;Y-'V,.  P^^  nuns  sometimes  form  tci  rfevengB  some  injury  ipflicfc 
^ir^M^^Tj^^ipmJi^b/. priests -or  ot^er  persons.  J  wiU  relate  one 

'■V       '■        '  "■  •    -     ..       -    ...■  '  ■:  ■■,  '   ,  ■    -iii*'       .,         -  ,     ^. 


.   \ 


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4'he  Tipsy  Priest. 


2ta^ 


4h- ■ 


j)f  theser,trioks,  which  was  practised  upon  a  priest,  by  a  nun 

■  ^   -■'>   "  .        ■     .      . 

►        of  bur. community.    The  "holy  father"  had  rendered  him- 

•    'self  particidarly  obnoxious  to  one  SislJer  Sasan,  and  she 

'  ■  "  soQA  foand  an  bppfortrmity  to  revenp(herself  upon  him.    He 

V  ^,  was  a  disreputable  man,  -and  among  his  -vices  thai  of  drunk- 

enness wafi  one  of  the  most  prominent.    Watching  her  ©ppor- 

■»       tunity,  Sister  Susan  one  day  found  Father  L- — —  lying 

in  a  vacant  cell,  so„far  intoxicated  ds  to  be  perfectly  help- 

'  \  i  lesf,  and  she  seized  upon  the  occasion  to  administer  ,a  severe 

|;  castigation  upon  him.    But  iu  order  to  atqid  detection,  she  ■ 

.>    took  a  piece  of  rblactj  crape  and  made  a  rude  mask  Qf  it — 

tjien  taking  a  heavy  stick,  she  went  into  the  cell  and' gave 

„  'the  drunken  father  a  terrible  beating,  \raile  he,"  not. wishing. 

V  ;  tobe  detected  iu^io  shameful  a  condition^  had  just  ^^nse 

enough  not  to  make  a  loud  outcry.    His  b|:uises  and  ot^er 
/-  evidences  of  the  occurrence,  however,  led  to  an  exposition; ' 
and' while  yet  half  stupefied  with  liquor  and  excitement — he . 
demanded  that  the  " black  nun" — should  be   punished. 
The  Superior,  supposing  he  was  telling  a  falsehood,  or  had  ' 
had  a  drunl^en.  dream,  or,  if  believing  his  story,  rejoic- 
ing it  his  beatl^g.for  her  own  sake,  treated  the  matter  very 
lightly,  ahd  assured  him  that  she  hacl  never  had  a  "  negro 
nun"  in  her  community.  . 

Sometimes  we  w^^  enteri^inea  by  the  Confessor  in  the 
chapel,  after  th6  services  were  over,  who  related  circum- 
^  •  Stances  copnected  witl^  theliistory  of  fielebrated  personages 
of  the  Romish  Church.  Mt  bthler.times  he  woilld  tell  us  of , 
miraculous  occurrences/  (torn  which  -flprung  the  worship  of 
certain  images.    One  day  he  related  the  following  :  • 


m 


#' 


-^M 


7^ 


■^ 


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I- 

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S-v. 


2t4 


H- 


The,  Talking  Image. 


n 


"-In  the  Cathedral  church  of  St.  Salvator,  there  was  an  old 
image  of  Jesus  Christ  crabified,  standing  behind  the  choir, 
in  a  small  obscure  chapel  ;  now,  nobody  took  notice  of  that 
cracifix,  except  a  devout  prebend  or  c|anon  of  the  Church, 
wh'o  was  in  the  habit  of  kneeling  to  ife  image  daily,  and  to 
pray  heartily  to  it.     This    prebend    was  .ambitious  of. 
advan^ent  in  the  church  ;  so  one  day,  as  W  was  on  his 
knees  before  the  image,  he  begged  that  by  its  power  and' 
influence  he  might  be  made  a  bishQil  Ac;   To  which  earnest 
request  the  imagff  made  answer,  'And  tkou  seest  me  here, 
VjAat  dost  thou  do  for  me  V  To  which  the  -canon  a,nswered, 
'  Lo'rd  I  have  sinned   and  done  evil  lefore  thee.^    For  this 
humble  answer -f  fie  image  said,  'Thou  shalt  be  a  bishop;' 
and  accordingly  he  was  made  a  bishop  very  soon  after.    On 
learning  of  this  miraculous  incident  the  chapter  resolved  to 
build  a  fine  chapel  in  one  corner  of  the  church  to  put  the 
figure  in,  that  it  might  be  worshiped  with  more  vefeation 
and  decency ;  but  the  image  spoke  again  to  the  prebend 
and  said,  *  My  pleasure  is  to  continue  where  I  am  till  the  end 
of  time.'     So  it  is  kept  in  the  same  chapel,  but  is  richly 
ishdowed." 

^  .  At  another  time  he  gave  us  a  history  of  "  Our  Lady  of 
Tovgres."  He  isaid  that,  "In  the  middle  of  the  night  on 
the  pecond  of  February,  a  famUy  of  the  Tongri,  whilst 
keeping  vigils',  observed  an  unusual  brightness  in  the 
'  garden.  After  a  short  time  this  splendor  received  a  great 
increase,  untU  at  length  it  rivalled  the  sun  itself.  A 
fragrance  far  above  that  of  Sabsea— bec^iuse  it  was  of  celes- 
tial origi^— succeeded,  and  a  most  enchantin|f  harmony  was 


*     ^<i*^  ' 


Impostures. 


215 


heard  ffom  afar.    On  proceeding  to. the  sceae,  early  in  the 

morning,  an  image  of  the  Mother  q^God  Was  found.    The 

man  who  first  saw  it  was  instantljr  cnred  of  a  disease/under 

•  which  he  had  suffered  for  three  years.    The  statue  was  at 

.  once  removed  to  the  chyrch  of  St.  Martin,  to  be  worsbij^d 

for  the  public  good.    But,  lo  !  the  next  morning,  the  same 

'  light, -the  same  fragrance,  the  same  melody,  was  perceived, 

'  and  the  image,  it  was  discovered,  had  gone  back  to  its 

original  situation  in  the  ^rden.    It  was  taken  back  to  St. 

Martin's,  and  again  it  returned  to  the  garden— a  third  tj^me 

.i  this  miraculous  translation  was  repeated,  and  then  it  was 

settled  that  our  Xady  of  Tongres  hq,d  made  choice  of  the 

gardra,  as  t|je  situation  of  her  shrine — therefore,  the>jB5lise 

to  which  the  garden  was  attached,  was  converted  into  a 

temple,  and  dedicated  to  her  jhonor  1"  '^^^.^ 

The  relation  of  such  ridiculous  stories  was  listened  to  by 

some  few  of  the  more  igno^nt  and  supepstitioi/s  nuns,  with 

the  most  profound  interest ;  whilst  others  would  smile  silly, 

and  cast  quizzical  glances  at  their  familiar  companions.    I 

thought  it  betrayed  a  very  shallow  policy  tp  attempt  s» 

gross  an  imposition  upon  some  of  us,  whom  the  CpnfessoE 

and  Superior  must  have  known  would  odTy  receive  their 

palpable  falsehoods  with  the  contempt  they  merited.    But 

these  impostors  arle  so  accustomed  to  dealing  with  the 

superstitious,  illiterate,  and  blind  believers  of  their  faith, 

that  they  will  not  forego  their  habits  of  deception,  when  in 

the  presence  of  the  more  intelligent  of  their  flock  ;  hence 

their  loss,  in  many  instances,  of  the  better  informed,  whose 

reasons  rebel  against  the  reception  of  saph  sheer  nonsedsef 


>i, 


%■ 


'4^' 


.t.1 


2t6  ,The  Concealed  Letter. 

and  such  utter  aMutdities.    The  novices  are  jiiiposed  upon, 
by  those  whose  busjyess  it  hio  train  them^nd  are  made  t»=-i: 
believe  tfiat  whenMey  feel  sad,  they  ap^xpepeiiitag  ''  the 
operations  of  the/Holy  Spirit."  >lf  they  yeep,theur  tears 
are  interpreted  ^  "  teacs-of  delight,"  and  sighs  are  always  ) 
"wafted  up  to jfaeaven?'    Thus  the  poor  deluded  ones  p^^',. 
led  on  by  gradual  st<ps,  until  the  noose  is  thr^isa-^^out 
their  necks,  from  whwfh  no  human  power  can  release  them.  '.-■ 

'  ^  friendly/ ij»»7  with  whom  I  had  exchanged  a  hasty 
Word  or  tw(¥of  kinfc"Ming,  had  not  attended  services  for 
seveBia^ayi^  butroflifctining  she  appeared  at  High  Mass, 
and/signi^d  that  shj  had  a  letter  for  me,  which  I  soon 
found  an  ^Opportunity  of  securing,    'intending  to  read  it  in 
ipy  cell,  I  placed  it  between  the  leaves  of  a  book  I  hejd  in 
my  han^^  at  the  time,  but  in  doing  so,  the  movement  was 
V  observe^  by  ithe  Superior,  and  she  asked  me  what  I  had 
there.  /My  fear  was  so  great  that  I  could  not  speak,  and  I 
am  sucie  my  face  must  have  been  perfectly  colorless;  for  I 
-  could  feel  the  blood  receding  fronj  the  surface  of  my  body, 
and  tt>ncentrating  around  and  withifa  my  very  heaH.-^  I 
should  have  swooned  with  terror,  had  not  my  attention 
been  drawn  suddenly  to  my  poor  tfiend,  ^o  sank  back 
upon  the^qor  where  Bhe  was  kneeling,  wfm  a  death-like 
pallor  uponvher  face.    A  low,  half  suppressed  groan,  uttered 
.  as  she  fell,  drew  all  eyes  upon  Jier,  and  while  the  attention 
,  ia|  ijU  present  was  thus  attracted,  Fquickly,  and  with  great 
ptie»once  of  mind,  ran  arpund  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
group  which  had  collected  about  the  prostrate  form  of  my 
IfriewJ,  and  tWst  her  letter  beneath  the  pedestal  of  an   ". 


■i    J 


w 


'  11 


Scene. 


m 


'sf 


imagroFSt.  Catherine,  standing^^  a  niche  Beside  the  ^Itar. 
This  accomplished,  I  pushed' my  way  forcibly  in  amoni  the 
rest,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  suffering  friend  open 
her  eyes.  Looking  wildly  around,  she  exclaimed,  ''/Where 
am  I  ?  Oh,  Yes,  Holy  Virgin  I  I  remember  I"  Ijistantly 
kneeling  down  by  her  side,  I  kissed  her,  and  embracing  her, 
whispered,  "  Do  not  fear,  it  is  safe."  She  pressed  my  arm, 
as  a  signal  that  she  understood  me,  and  the  cause  of  her 
terror  being  removed,  she  soon  4|^ained  her  strength,  and 
proceeded  to  her  cell.    •  "     / 

I  was  urged  by  the  Superior  to  give  up  the  letter,  but 
when  I  solemnly  assured  her  that  I  ^as  not  in  possession  of 
it,  phe  flew  iqto  a  rage  and  threatened  t/o  punish  me 
severely.  She  then  endeavpred  to  make  me  divulge  it^ con- 
tents, but  I  would  sooner  have  diedj^an  betrayed  my  friend, 
and  signified  «ts  mucb  to  the  enri^^  S^erior,  whereupon 
she  ordered  nie  to  my  ectll,  aftd  pifemised  me'the  infliction'of ' 
a  terribje  penance  for  pay  obduriacy.  Whether  she  repented 
of  her  severity,  or  thought  it  best  to  let  the  matter  drop, 
or  for  some  other  reason,  she  did)t{ot  act  upon  her  promise^ 
aa  I  did  not  hear  from  her  agai^/on  that  ]5articular  subject. 


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.-T  ^-^.       .CHAPTER    IX. 

■■'.■■■      —  '^"""~:- — -^  ■  ■     ,       „     ■  '■■'  ■■*   ■ 

Pric8Ujr  Duplicity— An  0utri^6--An  a4eipelste4  8!ght--MldiiJght  Adrentttres  lo  «18 
eonvent— Irksomeness  of  CouTent  Life— The  »gonl«ed  Soul— The  lovpr's  Moon-' 
light  StroU— The  OaKfen  Door— !|Phe  Key— The  Resolution  to  Baca^. 

~Y  situation  was  anything  but  enviable.    New  persecu-' 
fcions  awaited  me.    I  was  accused  of  having  practised 
ppon  t|ie  last  Superior.    The  immoral'  habits  of  the 
and  nuns  were  daUy  made  more  aDparent  to  He,  and 
as  PlUade  no  observations  on  the  subject*  nd  seeined  to  be 
indiflTerent  to  all  that  passed  around,  the  father  confessors 
,^  became  emboldened  to  make  improper  advances.    One  day,. 
^  just  before  twilight  in  the  evening,  as  I  was  passing  along 
the  Hall  leading  to  my^cell,*!  met  Father — — ,  who  came 
and  took , my  hand  in  a  warm  and  excited  mQ,nner,  and  said 
to  me,  "Sister,  ypu  leeni  dissatisfied  and  unhappy,  can  I  do 
.anything  to  render  you  more  happy  and  'contented  ?    "No 
"lather,"  I  replied.  "  All  I  ask  is, my  freedom,  and  that  you 
ill  deny  me."  '  ,     •  '        ,  ^ 

«%\" Not  so,  sister,"  said  he.    "It  is  your  temporal  father 
wm)  constrains  us  to  keep  you  with  us;'T)ut  your  obduracy 
rentiers  your  residence  liere  uncomfortable  to  you,  as  well  as 
to  Mose  Who  are  your  co-mates  in  this  holy  retreat." 
.^ '"^  have  no  QMB^tes,"  I  answered.    "All  Bjim^me,att4 


■:r* 


ii' .£;       f  " '  <i  "^     tj'-l,^     t„£,feJCjb^3n  f 


Crime  and 


'--  r 


fe 


219 


be  immured 


some  bate,  me  because 
^    within  these  walls  jigq,inst^ 

'*  It' would  be  a  pleasure  fQ^^^^^H^HITif  you  would 
be  more  pliable,  and  epter  iQtjM^^^^^t.of  those  plea- 
sures which  are  within  the  scope  mlHI^Rion,  and  are  justi- 
fied by  Our  theological  philosophy,"  said  the  "  holy  fdther." 
"There  is  no  philosophy,"  I  aBswered,  " founded  upon 
rational  and  mora)l  logic,  that  can  J^ustify  a  crime.'^    And 
now,  becoming  aMmed  at  finding  myself  pSirleying  with  one 
who  was  urging' upon  me  th^  commission  of  criminal  pleasures, 
with  their  antidote  of  "  absolution,'||  I  requested  permission 
^^  to  retire  to  my  cell.    But)  emboldened  by  my  stopping  -to 
converse -With  him,  the  confessor,  "i^till  holdltig  any  hand, 
.    although,  I    had  endeavored    to  withdraw  it,  drew„me 
towards  him,  and  would  have  proceeded  to  further  liberties, 
had  I  not  broke  away  from  him  by  main  force,  and  flew  to 
my  cell,  where,  trembling  with  excitement,  I  fell  ti£ton  ipy 
knees,  and  besought,  my  father  in  heaven  to  befriend: -me."^  Jt 
soon  became  composed  and  was  about  H)  retire,  when  a  gentle 
rap  at  my  door  threw  my  nervous  system  into  a  perfect  tre- 
.  mbr  of  excitement,  as  I  could  hot„conceive  it  to  be  any  other 
than  father— but. eummoning  up  a  forced  resolution,  I  went 
to  the  doQr  and  opened  ii    Nothing  codld  have  astonished 
me  more  than  the^  sight  which  presented  itself  to  my  view. 
There  stood  my  friend.  Sister  Agnes,  v^o  hati  befriended  me  , 
on  severarbccasions,  ia  the  convent  of  St*,  -j — -^,  and  who 
had  been  transferred  to  this  house  without  my  knowledge, 
.  until  the  moment  when  she  appeared,  like  an  apparition^  at 
the  door  o£  my  ^ell.    On  receiving  a  sign  from  me  to  enter, 


V   .    '  ' 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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.«d' 


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280 


The  Cry  op  Alabm. 


she  stepped  quickly  within,  and  dosing  the  door,  we  embraced 
each  other  afiFectionately. 
Sister  Agnes  had  a  gjeat  deal  to  tell  me  about  her  trials 

at  St ;  and  I  related  to  her  iflMxciting  event  of 

that  evening.  She  was  shocked  at  my*  recital,  and  warned 
me  to  beware  how  I  stopped  to  argue  with  the  father  con- 
fessors, lest  they  should  prevail  over  my  scruples^  and  draw 
me  into  their  snares.^ 

We  sat  on  my  low  pallet,  conferring  for  an  .hour,  I  should 
think,  when  Sister  Agnes  concluding  it  was  best  to  go  to 
her  cell,  left  me  with  manyjxpressions  of  regret  on  being 
obliged  to  do  so..  * 

She  had  not  been  gone  more  than  a  minute,  when  I  was 
alarmed  by  hearing  a  smothered  scream,  as  though  some  one 
was  suddenly  frightened.    I  though*  I  should  have  fainted, 
so  great  was  my  fear  that  Sister  Agnes  had  been  detected 
on  her  way  to  ^ier  cell,  or  I  thought  something  worse  might 
h&ve  befallen  her.    What  to  do,  I  knew  not,    To  leave 
her  in  trouble  was  cowardly— to  go  to  her,  was  to  expose 
myself,  and  perhaps  my  friend,  too,  to  a  greater  danger. 
;6ut  acting  upon  a  generous  impulse,  I  ran  as  rapidly  as  I 
,  could  along  the  now  nearly  dark  passage,  and  soon  reached 
the  vicinity  whence  the  sound  seemed  to  have  come.     I 
called  in  a  low,   whispering  tone,  "Hist!  hist  I  who's 
there  ?"  not  daring  to  call  my  friend  by  name. 

Presently,  a  door  opened  a  short  distance  from  me,  and  l' 
stepped  hastily  forward,  when  Sister  Agnes,  to  my  infinite 
relief,  caUed  me  to  her,  and  in  a  trembUng  voice,  whispered. 


"  ^1^°®*  ^  alarmed.     I  was  frightened  on  seeing  two 


* 


h 


SrsTER  Olivia. 


281 


^^ms  approaching  me,  and  as  they  were  between  me  and 
jAy  door,  I  thought  myself  detected,  anh  could  not  repress 
a  cry  of  alarm  that  arose  to  my  lips.  The  two  persons,  a 
male  and  female,  appeared  to  be  as  much  alarmed  as  I  was. 
ang  ran  from  me  as  though  I  were  a  ghost."      ■  ,     . 

Thus  satisfied  of  my  friend's  safety,  I  hastened  back  to 
my  dreary  cell,  and  after  praying  with  an  aching  heart,  and 
firmly  resolving  to  escape,  if  possible,  from  that  dreadful 
place,  I  retired  to  rest.  '-; 

On  the  foUowing  morning,  while  at  our  morning  exercises, 
I  observed  the  movements  and  looks  of  all  about  me  with 
close  attention,  and  I  thought  I  saw  an  anxious  expression  ' 
op  the  countenance  of  one  Sister  Olivia,  as  she  cast  a  furtive 
glance  at  me,  and  again  I  observed  her  looking  at  others 
anxiously  and  scrutinizingly.     Sister  Agnes  and  myself  had 
no  opportunity  of  conversing  on  the  subject  of  the  adven- 
ture which  had  befallen  us  on  the  previous  evening,  until 
after  our  dismissal  at  the  close  of  the^  ceremonies  of  the     . 
afternoon,  when  we  were  allowed  to  walk  in  the.  grounds^ 
attached  to  the  Convent,  but  which  were  surrounded  by  a  * 
high  wan.    Here,  attended  by  two  elder  nuns,  we  moved 
along  with  a  monotonous  and  solemn  pace,  as  though 
keeping  time  with  the  measured  notes  of  the  dead,  march. 
To  one  of  a  naturaUy  lively  and  cheerful  disposijibn,  the 
weary  and  irksome  practices  of  a  Convent  are  dr&flful  in 
the  extreme.     On  tbis  occasion  particularly,  I  could  have 
groaned  aloud,  and  wept' the  bitterest  tears  of  agony,  if  by 
giving  way  to  my  feeling  it  would  have  availed  me  aught. 
But  to  bear  and  sufifer  in  silence  was  my  lot;  and  the 


k  ,      ■  -  i     ■       -  ■  ..  ■ 


*r*"^w "  ■■''  '^'  ^'^^ '  ^^'F^^^^w^^'' 


282 


The  Pkiest  and  Nun. 


I  ft  / 


knowledge  of  my  helpless,  remediless  condition,  made  my 
sorrows  so  intense  that  the  fountains  of  my  eyes  seemed  to 
be  dried  op  by  the  fever  heat  of  my  poor  aching  and  half 
distracted  brain. 

Oh  I  I  thought,  if  I  could  but  unbosom  myself  tp  my 
friend,  and  pour  into  her  ears  the  tale  of  my  sorrows  and 
my  hopes,^  how  light  wbuldit  make  my  surcharged  and 
V  heavy-laden  heart  14 

Even  the  few  half-whispered  words  of  sympathy  whic?^ 
passed  between  us,  were  a  solace,  and  the  promise  made  by 
each  that  no  opportunity  of  meeting  should  be  lost,  was  a 
balm  to  out  nonnded  souls. 

When  night  came  I  could  not  resist  the  strong  tempta- 
tion of  visiting  Sister  Agnes,  and  regardless,  from  the  des- 
perate state  of  py  feelihgs,  of  all  consequences, :  I^ent 
boldly  toi  her  cell  and  rapped  gently  at  the  dooflKe 
opened  it  immediately,  and  entiepng,  we  conver^dlr^ely 
for  some  jtime.  Presently  we  heard  a  slight' cptagh,  a'fld 
then  a  low  admonition  to  be  careful.  I  ait  once  proposed  to 
Sister  Agnes  that  we  skould  fathom  tSe  mystery  at  all 
hazards,  and  she  acceded  to  the  proposal.  We  opened  the 
door,  which  had  been  left  a  little  ajar,  carefully,  and  looked 
up  and  down  the  passage  ;  whe^  at  the  furthest  extremity 

to  the  left,  where  the  hall  at  St. 's  runs  towards  the 

town,  we  saw  a  priest  and  a  nun,  standing  b^  the  dim  light 
of  a  -^ndow,  where,  the  rays  of  the  rising  moon  entered  with . 
a  faint  and  pallid  light.    They  api)eared  to  be  engaged  in 
close  and  earnest  conversation,  whispering  in  a  cautious  and 
timid  manner  for  a  few  minutes,  then  moved  towards  a  par(j| 


\ 


'■"n":^ 


V 


The  Mysterious  Wanderers. 


283 


•X^the  buUding  occapied  by  the  recluse  nans,  where  those 
WKo  had  not  advanced  into  the  higher  honors  of  the  con- 
ven^were  never  allowed  to  go.    As  if  by  a  simaltaneous 
and  sympathetic  impulse,  we  quickly  entered  the  hall  and 
hurriftd  to  the  end  of  it,  where  a  transverse  comder  leads 
into  the  western  jange  of  secluded  apartments,  inhabited  by 
the  Superior  and  her  associates,  the  recluse  nuns.    This 
corridor  has  also  at  its  eastern  terminus,  a  long  and  narrow 
stairway,   leading  down  into  the  deeper  section  of  the- 
grounds  lying  towards  the  river.    This  part  of  the  enclosure 
is  terraced,  having  windmg  paths  running  far  down  below 
the  level  of  the  elevation  upon  which  stands  the, main, 
structure  of  the  Convent,  .^rriving  at/th§  end  of  the 
passage,  we  looted  around  the  western  comer/  and  to  our 
terror  saw  the  priest  and  nan  returning,  but  they  were  so 
intent  upon  their  own  affairs,  that  fortunately,  they  did  not 
perceive  ns.    We  drew  back  into*  the  partiaUy  shaded 
passagg,  and  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  with  fear. 

With  theh-  heads  in  close  proximity,  the  twain  passed  on 
tq^ards  the  stairway,  eastward';  and  again  mustering  suffi- 
cient courage.  Sister  Agnes  and  myself  peered  cautiously 
through  the  darkness,  endeavoring  to  trace  thtf  mysterious 
wanderers.  Witii  a  boldness  which,  to  recall  now  iii  my 
cooler  moments,  astonishes  me,  we  moved  along  the  corridor 
towards  the  stairway  leading  down  into  the  open  grounds, 
and  seeing  no  one  there  we  descended  the  stairs  and  passed 
out  into  the  terrace  walk  winding  past  the  doorway.  The 
light  of  the  moon  had  the  eflfect,  at  first,  to  deter  ns  frpm 
proceeding  far  enough  into  the.  open  air  to  be  seen  from  the    : 


/ ,  ^  ■ 


284 


The  Door  in  the  W^ 


V 


windows  of  the  Convent,  but  our  curiosity  getting  the 
better  of  our  prudenqe,  we  copcluded  to  go  on,  bat  be 
careful  to  keep  in  the  shadows  of  the  trees. 
•  With  palpitating  hearts,  we  advanced  along  a  path 
which  was  shaded  by  a  row  of  cedar  trees  on  either  border, 
and  soon  saw  the  objects  of  our  search,  as  they  were  tum- 
into  a  still  more  secluded  avenue. 

'*s  closely  as  we  could  with  safetyi  Sister 
Agnes  and  Myself,  wi4  clasped  hands,  kept  on  behind  the 
^arty  in  advance,  untU  they  reached  a  part  of  the  surround- 
ing wall,  in  which  was  fixed  a  smaU  oaken  door,  heavily 
studded  with  large  iron  nail^.  The  priest,  taking  a  key 
from  hia  pocket,  at  once  unlocked  the  door,  and  the  two, 
•  seeming  confident  that  no  one  could  be  Moving  at  that  late 
hour  of  the  night,  passed  out,  leaving  the  key  in  the  lock, 
but  closing  the  door  after  them,  which  creaked  upon  its 
hinges.  ^ 

We  were  now  utteriy  at' fault,  and.  each  turned  inquir- 
ingly towards  the  othen  Sister  Agnes  was  the  first  to 
spea^.  ^  y 

"  Let  us  secure  the  means  pf  escape  which  heaven  sefems 
to  have  placed  within  oar  i^each^'^  wag  her  spirited  proposi- 
tion. '  ' 

I  consented  at  once,  and  not  to  be  outdone  by  my  fellow 
prisoner,  I  went  directly  to  the  door  and  drew  the  key 
noiselessly  from  the  lock.*  • 

"It  will  not  be  Eiafe  to  venture  forth  to-night,"  said  I, 
"as  the  creaking  door  Aiight  betray  us,  for  we  know  not 
how  near  the  father  coWessor  and  his  companion  may  be." 


IT 


A 


I  .■ 


«i- 


BCINS    AND    MOONUQHT. 


286 


^^ 


'^ 


"^lat  thoaght  was  mine  also,"  said  Sister  Agnes,"  and 
^  now  let  U3  retrace  our  steps  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
await  the  corrent  of  eventSi" 

,  Ascending  the  mofe  elevated  ground,  by  the  winding 
paths,  we  sooa  reached  the  upp^  avenue,  where  we  had  am 
unobstructed  view  of  .the  rivfer,  which  we  paused  a  moment 
to  admire,  as  the  silver  i*ays  of  the  lovely  moon  6hone  upon 
its  placid  surface.    ^»  ,  ;' 

*  ^^  "  See,  see  I''  exclaimed  Sister  Agnes,  "  that  boat  moving 
out  from  the  shore,  it  contains  two  persons,  a  man  and 
woman;  I  believe." 

"  Perhaps  the  sdme  whom  we  have  traced  so  far  to- 
night," said  I.  *  *    „ 

"Most  likely.    They  appear  to  be  making  for  the  point 
-.where  the  walls  of  the  old  convent  of  St.^ —  stands  out  in 
bold  relief/against  the  sky  beyond."        , 

"  Now  is  our  time  to  fly  from  these  unholy  grounds,"  said 
I.  And  I  felt  as  though  nerved  to  the  desperate  venture 
by  an  unseen  power.         • '  ' 

My  friend  was  equally  resolved,  and  hastily,  but  still 
trembling  with  an  excitement  we.  could  not  entirely  sup- 
press, we  proposed,  in  hurried  and  broken  sentences,  the 
method  of  proceeding  best  to  be  adopted. 


\ 


H 


- 

■"    • 

-I.. 

„  ,.„,..,   ^, 

;.  "  1    . 

.  '■  ■                    n  - 

,' . 

-■\-^ 

i 

\ 

r'--' 

'      K  - 

■';•#■ 

* 

^^^ 

^::^          - 

■* 

i: 


286 


PfiEPABAnONS    FOR    EsCAFE. 


.r'- 


CHAPTBR   X. 


Hwty  Preparations— The  Boat-lDhe  Escape— The  Alarm— My  night  with  Slater 
Agnes— Adventures— Patlgne  and  Repose— Liberty  I  how  Sweet !— The  Sagaclons 
Dog— A  Friend— A  Welcome— Natural  Behavior,  versus  the  Artificiality  of  Con- 
vent Life— Considerate  PrlendO— Priests  In  Pursuit.' 

-  ■  .       **• 

'  was  determined  that  we  should  return  to  oar  aparianents, 
and  secure  such  needful  and  suitable  clothing,  as  would 
best  subserve  our  purpose— then  hasten  to  leave  the  plac^ 
trusting  in  th^  all-seeing  eye  of  Providence  to  watch  over  us, 
in  our  flight  from  a  spot  which  we  believed  to  be  desecrat^ 
by  the  presence  of  corrupt  and  guilty  beings.  ^^ 

Noiselessly  but  rapidly,  we  made  our  way  back  to  our 
Respective  cells.  Selecting  the  darkest  clothing  from  my 
fcaoty  wardrobe,  and  wrapping  the  papers  of  Sister  Ursula 
(wiiich'I  had  concealed  beneath  my  pallet  of  straw),  in  a 
silk  bandkerchief,  I  hastened  back  to  the  doorway  at  the 
foot  of  the  stone  step.  I  waa  the  first  to  reacL  the  spot- 
but  had  not  long  to  await  the  coming  of  Sister  Agnes. 

Looking  out  upon  the  water,  to  see  that  all  was  clear, 
and  seeing  nothing  of  the  boat,  we  hurried  down  towards 
the  door  in  the  wall,  keeping  in  the  shade  of  the  trees,  and 
as  miich  beneath  them  as  possible,  fearing  we  might  be  seep- 


.V-. 


> 


:  *5?'iW^' 


The  Alarm. 


ast 


from  th«  windows,  by  any  one  who  shonld  chance  to  be 
stirri%  |n  the  convent; 

We,^oon  jeJched  the  wall,  and  opening  the  door,  with 
trembling  hands,  w^  held  our  breath  with  fear  as  it  ^ated 
.  harshly  npon  its  rnsty  hinges.      .        . 

This  was  scarcely  done,  when  Sister  Agnes  descried  the 
boat  and  its  occupants,  in  the  distance,  as  they  were  leaving 
the  pomt  whereon  the  ruined  convent  stood. 

"Quick  I  be  quick  !»  she  exclaimed,  " or  we  are  lost." 

She  had  no  sooner  uttered  these  words  of  warning,  than 
the  convent  bell  pealed  out  a  sudden  sonnd,  as  though  it 
had  been  stricken  in  alarm  by  alear-nerved  hand. 

"Courage  Sister  — —  1"  criedxthe  generous  "Agnes," 
seeming  to  fo^et  herself,  and  only  afarme^  for  my  safety. 
"Let  us  lock  the  door,  to  prevent  pursuit  in  this  direction, 
and  to  draw  attention  from  ourselves,  and  fix  it  upon  yonder 
guilty  cbuple."      „  /  \ 

It  was  a  happy  thought,  and  wft  did  not  lose  much  time 
in  carrying  it  into  execution.  I 

Withdrawing  the  key  from  the  lock,  I  threw  it  down 
among  some  bushes  near  the  water-  and  now  like  startled 
deer  we  sped  as  swiftly  as  our  feet  could  carry  us,  along  the 


m 


river's  bank,  thait  skirted  the  adjacent  town. 

Favored  by  the  foliage  of  the  trees  akd  bushes  growing 
on  the  bank  above  us,  we  were  safe  frok  view,  an^  felt 
encouraged  by  this  most  favoring  feature  Of  our  flight  for 
had  we  been  exposed  to  view  in  the  bright  moonlight,  |nth- 
out  an  ifltervening  screen,  such  as  the  trecrf  or  btishes  foriied, 
we  should  surely  have  been  detected.    We  coittd  still  hear 


288 


r''^^.wi^'p\'u^'-^-'  ,'  *  H'^'T  r^-j-    ■  '  \j^  r  'T 

a     ^ 

-  » 

"*            The  Flight. 

«,J 


the  convent  bell  tolling  tha  alarm,  and  at  every  peal  our 
hearts  throbbed  with  a  more  painful  intensity,  and  our 
nervous  limbs  were  animated  with  an  additional  celerity. 
f  We  continued  our  .flight,  in  this  most  trying  frame  of 

-*    mind,  until,  completely  exhausted,  we  sank  down  upon  the 
sloping  side  of  a  rising  knoll,  immediately  on  the  outskirts  of 
the.  suburban  district  of  the  town,  known  as  the      ■    ,  -V 
district.     Here,   resting   for  a  few  minutes,  we    hastily* 
^^^o^rsed  upon  our  best  plan  of  proceeding,  and  concluded^/ 
to  call  in  at  the  first  house  of  good  appearance  which  we 
should  find  most  convenient  and  accessible,  at  the  break  of 
day,  and  throw  ourselves  upon  the  mercy  ^of  its  inmates. 
After  sitting  for  a  few  minutes,  and  finding  ourselves  greatly 
refreshe^,  we  continued  our  flight,  for  so  it,  may  still  be 
called,  although  our  pace  was  greatly  modified,  Iw  the 
thought  of  the  distance  placed  between  ourselves  and  the 
convent  .^alls,  had  tended  to  reassure  us. .  Keeping  as  much 
^  as  possible  beneath  the  trees,  along  the  river's  bank,  and 

listening  to  every  sound  that  reached  our  ears,  we  pursued 
J)Or  way  towards  the  better  part  of  the  district,  which  was    • 
situated  on  the  table-land  above  the  water's  edge. 

We  soon  reached  a  fence  of  rails,  surrounding  the  grounds 
designed  for  farmmg  purposes,  and  cdncluded  to  remain  at 
a  proper  distance  from  the  house,  until  the  morning's  light 
ishould  set  the  farming  hands  astir. 

Looking  about  us  for  a  comfortable  hiding-place,  we 
selected  a  little  clump  of  alder  bushes  and  other  fehrabs, 
which  afiforded  us  a  retreat  impervious  to  the  prying  eyes  of  - 
any  who  might  be  searching  for  us,  and  at  the  same  time  a 


ft         "^^Wy^  pJWKfp-^^BT-r^'TyfcF^^i?^ 


Liberty. 


289 


Bylvan  bed  of  leaves  whereon  to  rest  our  wearied  limbs] 
Overcome  with  excessive  fatigae  of  miiid^  and  body,  my  • 
friend  and  myself  were  soon  fast  asleep,  notwithstanding  an 
agreement,  that  we  should  keep  alternate  watches  for  fear"^ 
of  a  surprise.    ^ 

We  must  have  slept  for  several  hours,  because  when  I , 
was  awakened  by  my  friend,  the  sun  was  up  and  shining 
brightly  on  the  river,  and  driving  off  the  mist  that  hung 
above  the  water's  surface  like  a  fleec/ cloud. 

"  Oh  1  Liberty  I"  I  cried,  "  how  sweet,  how  beautiful  I"    ' 

My  affectionate  companion  gave  me  a  mOTning  kiss,  and 
wo  vowed  that  we  would  share  together  the  cruel  sufferings 
of  captivity,  or  else  enjoy  the  luxuries  , of  freedom  hand  in 
hand  through  life. 

It  will  readily  be  supposed  that  but  little  time  was  lost 
in  making  our  toilet'te,  and  we  were  soon  on  our  way  to  the 
house  which  we  had  selected  for  a  visit  Crossing  a  field 
of  corn  and  melons,  we  reached  a  prden  fence,  along  which 
wo  walked,  until  wo  arrived  at  a  gate  ,(^ening  into  a  path 
bordered  Y^ith  boxwood  of  1^m|-  and  luxuriant  growth. 
;We  had  not  walked  far  along  ma  beautiful  path,  when  a 
large  dog,  of  the  Newfoundland  species,  came  running 
toward  us  ;  but  when  the  sagacious  animal  saw  that  it  was 
only  two  females,  he  seemed  to  thmK^(and  I  believe  he  did 
thiiik :  it  iq  a  part  of  my  philos^by),  'that  no  mischief 
was  intended,  and  he  came  up  to^  us  ih  a  friendly  manner, 
then  ran  ^ff  towards  the  house,  as  if  to  announce  our 
approach.  Presently  an  elderly  gentleman  came  out  of  the 
door,  and  walked  down  the  path  to  meet  us.    The  beniga 

-.  ■    :-  ■  13   .  .  ■■■■•.■ 


e-'^st 


'^. 


200 


A  Friend  Indeed. 


(■    4 


/.ft'i-.^" 


--^ 


expression  of  this  venerable  man's'  countenance  greatly 
relieved  onr  anxiety  as  to  the  result  of  our  call,  and  I  at 
once  addressed  him  as  I  would  a  friend,  v  "  Sir,"  said  I, 
''you  see  before,  you  two  unfortunate  gW  wto  have, 
escaped  from  the  St.  T-^ — :'s  Convent;  and  who^fiim  your 
protection  from  th^ir  pursuers,  as  we  doubt  not  the  feuperior 
has  sent  out  her  emissaries  to  Secure  us."  "      ^ 

"  Poor  unfortunates  !"  exclauned  the  good  old  gentleman, 
in  a  compassionate  tone^of  voice.  "  Come  in,  come  in  ;  my 
house  shall  be  your  castle,  and  I  will  sooner  see  it  razed  to 
the  ground  than  a  haif  of  ypur  heads  shall  be  touched. 
Come  in,  I  have  daughters  of  my  own,  and  they  will  wel^ 
come  you  too." 

'<fi:eavenwill  reward  you,  sir,"  said  Siste/ Agnes,  for 
ty  theit  endearing  title  Ii©ust  still  call  her,  although  not  in " 
the  CQ^entual  sense.  '  - 

.  ''Yes/'  replied  the  o|d  gentleman,"  Heaven  will  reward 
me  if  I  merit  it ;  and  my  conscience  tells  me  I  am  serving 
heaven  in  protecting  you.". '      . . 

Leading  the  way,  our  benevolent  friend  ushered  us  into  a 
kind  of  dming-room,  where  an  cfflerly  female  and  tj^o  young 
ladies  were  seated  al  a  breakfast-table!  They  all  immedi- 
ately arose,  and  our  hospitable  friend  relieving  us  of  the 
unpleasant  necessity  of  repeatingour  story,  in  a  few  words 
informed  his  wife  and  daughters  of- the  circumstances  which 
led  to  tfur  early  and  unexpected  cidl.  We  were  immedi- 
ately greeted  with  afcordial  welcome,  and  with  lymy  expres- 
Bionf  of  sympathy;  were  assured  of  their  determination  to 
protect  08,  should  their  intervention  be  required.-    Plates 


^,.j. 


■■^■y.'T^ir--^ 


-<"   • » 


.'„  >■ 


Free  to   Laugh.. 


291 


and  chairs  were  immediately  placed  for  us  at  the  table,  and 
we  were  warmly^urged  to  make  ourselves  "  at  home." 

I  cannot  convoy  in  mere  words  an  idea  of  the  pleasure  it 
gave  me  to  be  once  mpre  ajnong'  those  who  were  free  to  act 
a  natural  part,  who  were  at  libqrty  to  smile,  or  oven  signify 
theirlfppiness  and  joy  by  an^unrestrained  and  hearty  peaf 
of  laughter.    I  had  .been  so  kJng  accustoi^  to  the  senso- 
lesSj  and  unnatural  method  of  behavior  prescribed  by  the 
"rules",  of  tbd  convent,  that  I  felt,  and  am  sure  I  must  have 
appeared  awkward  and  constrained  in  the  dyes  of  my  now 
friends.    Hypocrisy^  having  'been  reduced  to  a  science  in  the 
convent,  I  still  felt  the  influence  of  its  subtle  power  over 
^nyr  mind  and  person.  *  I  still  ejq)erienced  its  tramipeliiig  con- 
trol.   Sister  Agnes  appeared  more  at  her  %ase,  and  perhaps 
she  did  not  experience  the  feeling  I  have  endeavored  to 
describe.    It  might  have  -been  that  my  nature  was  more 
susceptible  pf  impressions,  and  retained  theni  longer. 

While  at  our  breajifl^,  I  cast  an  uneasy  glance  at  the 
servant  maid,  who  was,  called  into  the  room  <wcei  or  twj^ 
for  Bomef  necesstCry  service,'  when  our  consider^  host, 
observing  my  loo'k  of  mingled  apprehension  and  suroicion, 
promptly  relieved  my  amdety  by  informing  ine  that  alfatpund 
him  were  Protestants,' anil  that  I  iieed  be  under  nSTa^ 
hension  on  that  scpre.  At  the  same  time,  the  good  lady  of^ 
the.  house  told  me  that  she  would  have  a  talk  with  the  ser- 
vant gu-l,  who  could  i)e  trusted^  so  that  she  would  be  upon 
her  guard  in  case  of  ^ny  inquiries  bein^  made  for  my  friend 
or  myself.  .  . 

/After  breakfast  we  were  furnished  with^niresses  more 


'*  a. 


i 


.  ^ 


292 


Rumors  of  our  Escape. 


r 


becoming  to  /our  new  pojation,  by  the  generous .  daughters 
of  our  veneyable  friend,  who  seemed  to  vie' with  iach  other 
in  their  effprts  to  make  ns  ctiiifortable  and  happy. 
^  Requesting   the   use  of-  a   writing-desk,  which  stood 
upon  a  table  in  the  sitting-robm,  I  addressed  a  hasty 
note  to  ]VIr.  ,  my  legal  friend  at  — ^  apologiz- 
ing to   him  for  my  feeming  unkindncsa  in  refusing  to 
see  him  while  at  the  Convent  of  St.  - — ,  and.  request- 
ing his  aid  in  my  present  emergency.    Sister  Agnes  also 
wrote  to  a  distant  relative,  the  only  being  on  earth  she 
could  claim  as  such,  because  her  more  immediate  con- 
nections were  all  of  the  Catholic  belief,  and  would  most 
likely  obey  their  priests,  should  they  require  the  betrayal  of 
a  fugitive  from  a  convent— even  though  that  fugitive  Were 
a.blood  relation.    In, the  afternoon  a  lady  called  upon  bur 
friends,  mentioned  a  report  of  our  escape  as  circulating 
through  the  town,  but  made  no  particular  comments,  and 

could  give  no  especial  information. 

■•■>.  •.   ■■  ■  ■ 

As  soon  as  this  lady's  call  was  announced,  Sister  Agnes 

and  myself  were  requested  to  sit  in  a  retired  cKsimbcr,  until 
she  should  leave,  which  we  were  very  glad  to  do     —         ^ 
Nothing  more  reached  us,  this  day  respecting  our  escape. 
We  had  taken  a  reffeshing  sleep  in  the  heat  of  the  davj  iind^ 
in  the  afternoon,  towards  evening,  we  felt  a  ism'^^^'y 
.imparted  to  us,  mentally  and  physically.      Sister  A^nei^ 
particularly,  maiiifested  an  exuberance  of  good  spirits,  such 
as  I  could  scarcely  believe  it  possible  for  any  one  to  possess 
under  the  still  unp^leasant  and  difficult  circumstances  sur- 
rounding her.   «he^  skipped  about,  and  laughed  and  talked 


.,  » 


•A 


^i  -■ 


:a^/ 


"        .V       -    «   .,        f  , 


>     :"' 


Prists  on  our  Track. 


293 


in  the  most  lively  manner,  and  the  youngest  dau^ter  of  oar 
heat^  being  of  the  same  joyous  temperament,  their  happmess 
had  its  influence  upon  her  sister  and  myself.  I  tfiink  it  was 
on  the  thurd  diiy  after  oar  escape,  that  a  gentleman  called  to 
Bed  Miss  Matilda,  the  eldest  of  our  young  lady  friends,  and 
informed  her  that  the  most  exciting  rumors  were  rife,  in 
town,  respecting  the  escape  of  two  nuns  icom  the  couvefttr; 
that  two  priests,  and  two.  or*  three  of  tjfi|derly^uns  were 
makmg  inquiries  and  searching  .diligently  in  every  direction 
for  the  runaways.  He  said  that  the  people  generally 
sympathized  deeply  with  the  fugitive^,  and  that  ithe  convent 
could  not  furnish  fcnrce  enough  to  carry  ihem  back  against 
their  wills.  It  vay  be  supposed  that  we  were  greatly 
alarmed  at  learning  the  condition  of  the  public  mind  on  our 
account,  and  the  more  so,  because  we  well  knew  that  the 
more  excitement  there  was,  the  more  anpoua  our  pursuers 
would  be  to  j^et  us  into  their  hands  agaihiiefore  we  could 
inform  the  people  6f  the  bad  treatment  we  had  been  sub" 
jected  to,  and^  the  practices  of  the  inmates  of  the  convent. 
Our  hosts  offered  to  place  us  under  the  protection  of  the 
authorities,  if  we  desired  it,  but  wishing  to  avoid  so  much 
pv^licity,  we  thanked  our  good  friends  for  the  offer,  and  only 
requested  that  we  shonld*  have  permission  to  remain  udder 
their  charge  until  we  could  hear  from  our  friends  to  whom 
we  had  written.  They  were  so  kind  as  to  say  that  we 
would  be  welcome  to  remain  a  yearlwith/^hem  if  we  could 
make  ourselves  contented  in  their  litt|$7family  circle.  On 
the  following  week,  letters  came  foi*  Sister  Agnes  and  myself ; 
hers  was  from  her  friend's  father,  offering  his  protection,  with 


X 


'■".    rtl 


A:. 


y 


294 


Letters'  and  Monet. 


a  few  libes  of  sympathy  and  love  from  his  daughter. 
Enclosed  in  this  letter  was  one  directed  to  a  gentleman 
of  high  respectability  in  town.  This  letter  was  immediately 
sent  as  directed,  our  kind  host  being  well  acquainted  with 
the  person  for  whom  it  was  intended.     Mine  contained 

instructions  how  to  proceed  legally,  my  friend  Mr.  C 

taking  a  professional  as  well  as  friendly  view  of  my  "case." 

.  There  Were  also  some  few  expressions  of  condolence  and 
interest,  and  fifty  dollars  in  the  form  of  a  draft  upon  the 

baiik  at .    He  advised  me  to  see  a  good  Protestant 

lawyer,  if  I  thought  I  was  in  danger,  and  could  not  safely 
leave  town  ;  but  if  there  was  no  pressing  necessity  to  take 
legal  measures,  then  to  start  immediately  for  the  city  where 
he  resided.     I  resolved  to  act  u^on  this  last  suggestion; 

.  acquainted  Sister  Agnes  with  my  purpose,  and  urged  her 
to  accompany  me.  The  gentleman  to  whom -her  friend  had 
addressed  the  letter,  called  upon  her  and  proffered  his  ' 
services.  She  infosmed  him  of  her  wish  to  accompany  me, 
and  he  placed  his  carriage  at  our  disposal,  as  a  conveyance 
at  once  comfortable  and  safe.  In  this  we  could  go  as  far 
as  M— s— ,  and  there  we  could  take  the  boat  for  R — ^. 


,  A  purse  of  money  was  given  to  Sister  Agnes  in  a  most 
delicate  manner  by  her  new  acquainlbnce,  an4  with  hearts 
aa  light  as,  the  free  birds  of  the  air  we  stk^ted  on  our  journey. 


.-A. 


*■* 


■t 


Rapid  Travelling. 


295 


/ 


CHAPTER   XI. 


The  hasty  Departiire«*C!hange  of  Hones— A  devoted  Friend— The  Steamer—!^ 
Arrival- An  angry  Bishop— A  Power  beyond  the  Laws— A  cool  Lawyer— The 
IMsmissal— The  baffled  Bishop.     / 

¥E  fondly  hoped  that  oar  trials  were  oVeP,  as  far  as  the 
priest  and  Superior  of  -the  Convent  were  concerned  ; 
bat  not  so,  for  we  had  not  proceeded  farther  than  the  cen- 
tral portion  of  the  town,  when  Sister  Agnes,  who  was  look- 
ing incaationsly  from  the  carriage-window,  qaickly  drew  back 
and  exclaimed  :  "He  saW  me  I"  It  was  Father  L— — . 
Knowing  that  nothing  worse  conld  happen  from  my  being 
seen,  as  well  as  Sister  Agnes,  I  loo^d  t)at,  and  saw  oar  pur- 
saei*  hastening^  on  after  as,  and  looking  about  as  if  for  some 
means  of  pursuit.  I  informed  our  friend,  lir.  - — ,  of  what 
^had  observed,  and  he  ordered  the  driver  to  put  the  horses 
at  the  most  rapid  pace  at  Which  he  could  drive  them  with 
safety.  W^  fairly  flew  over  the  ground,  but  our  fe%rs  and 
'Our  desire  to  escape  were  so  great^  that,  to  us,  the  carriage 
se^ed  to  move  with  no  remarkable  degree  of  speed. ,  I 
believe  that  the  fastest  locomotive  would  scarcely  have  sat- 
isfied our  desire  to  be  moving  at  the  greatest  possible 
velocity.   We  must  have  travelled  several  miles  at  this  furi- 


l«X' 


C^v 


296 


■M 


IHlEflti    HORSBS    AND    OnWARD, 


oua  rate,  when  the  driver  stopped  before  a  public  honse,  and 

informed  Mr. that  his  horses  could  not  go  on  at  the 

speed  they  had  been  travelUng.  Fresh  horses  were  ordered, 
and  we  were  fortunate  enough  to  procure  a  team  of  excel- 
lent ones.  But  Uttle  time  was  lost,  and  on-  we  raced,  look- 
ing behind  us  to  see  if  any  one  was  in  pursuit.  No  one 
was  visible  along  the  road  we  had  «ome,  and  we  hoped 
that  we  had  escaped  the  notice  of  Father  L  ,  as  to  the 
direction  we  ha€  ta^en  on  leaving  town. 

After  driving  some-four  or  five  miles  further,  at  a  gaUop- 
ing  pace  part  of  the  time,  our  driver  slackened  the  speed  of 
our  noble  horses,  and  let  them  take  breath.  > 

We  soon  reached  a  smaU  village,  seven  mUes  distant  from  > 
M ,  but  did  not  pause  a  moment  longer  than  was  neces- 
sary to  wipe  the  horses,  and  give  them  a  Kttle  water.    TJie 
sev^n  tofles  were  soon  traveUed,  and,  stopping  at.one  of  the 
hotels  untU  the  boat  shodd  leave  for  iU_,  we  had  an 
opportunity  to  recover  from  our  nervous  trepidation,  and  to 
thank  our  generous  friend  for  his  valuable  services.    He 
assured  us  repeatedly  that  it  was  his  duty,  and  urged  that 
we  were  undet  no  obligations  to  him  whatever.    His  polite- 
ness and  gentlemanly  i^ttentions  were  unremitting— so  much  = 
BO,  that  we  could  not  but  feel  a  deep  sense  of  our  indebted- 
ness to  him,  notwithstanding  his  generous  reasoning,  that 
the  performance  of  a  duty  caUs  for  no  feeling  of  obliga- 
tion. ^ 

As  the  boat  started  in  an  hour  or  so  after  our  arrival,  we 
all  concluded  that  it  would  be  safe  to  go  alone  to  R-L-, 
although  our  noble  friend  proffered  his  company  and  pro^ 


^?  VThb  Stbamer^ 


297 


4 


tection,  should  we  feel  i|ie[N|Jeast  apprehensive  in  travelling 
alone.  We  could  not  behave  that  Father  I^-rr  had  been 
able  to  followJ^«OjBlOseiy,Vd  we  did  not  feel 'justified  in 
putting  Mr/«|i—  to  so  much  trouble ;  we  therefore  in^ted 
that  we  shofljd  be  perfectly  saf^ui  g^ing  to  R— r—  unaB- 
fiompanied.         ^  )>1/ 

After  procuring  oiy  state  room0)r  us,  and  informing  the 
captain  that  we  were  unattended^,  and  might  possibly  require 
attention,  and  receiving  a  promise  from  the  captain  that  we 
should  be  cared  for,  our  kind  1)enefactor  took  leave  of  us  in 
the  most  affectionate  manner.  Indeed,  had  we  been  his  own 
children,  he  could  not  have  manifested  a  more  tender  solici- 
tude for  our  welfare  ;  and  we  shall  ever  regard  him  in  the 
light  of  one  who  has  conferred  upon  us  a  favor,  which  a  life 
of  the  most  grateful  remembrance  cannot  repay. 

We  remained  ip  our  state  room  during  our  whole  voyage 
to  R— — ,  and  were  waited  upon  with  the  greatest  atten-t, 
tion  by  the  chambermaid,  whom  the  captam  had  instructed 
to  call  frequently  upon  us  to  see  if  we  required  anything. 
Our  meals,  which  we  ate  on  board  the  steamer,  were  sent 
to  our  room  by  the  attentive  chambermiud,  at  our  request. 

Our  arrival,  had  been  anticipated  by  TiSx.  C- ,  wiio 

received  us  at  the  landmg,  and  condnqted  us.  to  hisi,  house, 
where  we  were  introduced  to  his  sisters,  two  lovely  and 
affectionate  girls. 
.  He  did  not  reproach  me  for  my  seeming  ingratitude  at . 

the  Convent  of  St. ,  when,  at  the  archbishop's  order,  ' 

I  refused  to  see  him,  Imd  sent  back  his  letter  unopened. 
Bat  I  mentioned  it,  and  apoI(^zingIy  nrged  the  arch- 

13* 


298 


A   Power  beyond  thb\  IUws. 


fj-'v' 


/■■ 


)• 


:--^. 


bishop's  order  in  extenuation  of  ,what  ^ght  appear  to  be 
ingratitade. 

I  sopposed,  of  coarse;  the  archbishop  M^onld  conclude  that 

I  had  sought  tlie  protection  of  Mn ,  therefore  I  was 

neither  surprised  nor  alarmed  when  the  Bishop  of 

cadled  upon  my  counseller  and  demandedj  my  rendition  into 
th^  hands,  pf  the  community  of  Slj^  — — .  "  I  have  come," 
8ai4  tne  bishop,  ,^ith.  that  an^gant  assumption  of  power 
(ietiilEar  to  Bomi^  priests,  ^ho  a^  accustomed  to  tyrannize 
over  their  ignprant  flocks,  "  I  hare  come  to  demand  the 
possession  of  ^is^*- — ,  known  as  Sister  Louisa  '■ , 


whom  we  have  reason  to  believe  has  hidden  herself  in  your 
house." 

"  Sir,"  said  my  friend,  "  this  country  is  neither  Italy,  nor 
Spain,  nor  Portugal,  nor  Cuba — it  is  America ; '  and  if  you 
have  not  learned  the  diflference  between  the  spirit  of  Iho 
respective  countries  i  have  named,  and  that  of  this  govern- 
ment, let  me  tell  you  your  ignorance  is  unpardonable;  because 
the  time  you  have  employed  practising  deception  upon 
the  superstitions  and  bigoted  of  your  flock,  could  have  been 
better  devoted  to  an  acquisition  of  ^ome  slight  knowledge 
relq)ecting  the  rights  of  American  citiisenship.  Do  you  think, 
sir,  because  I  submitted  to  the  peculiar  laws  of  the  locality 

of  St. 's  Convent,  that  I  will  be  as  yielding  here  ?" 

.  "  You  may  do  as  you  please,"  replied  the  bishop  angrily; 
"  bnt  I  warn  ypu  to  beware  you  do  dot  go  too  far  with 
your  legal  steps,- or  that  yon  do  not  incur  the  serious  dia- 
pleasorp  of  a  power  that  is  beyond  your  laws." 

"  I  know  your  meaning,"  was  my  friend's  reply  ;  "  but  I 


'T'r 


-~-^w- 


Thk  JJakpi.ed   Bishop. 


209 


0 


neither  fear  the  Becrct  machinations  of  your  Jesuit  band, 
nor  do  I  dread  the  consequences  of  yonr- priestly*  wrath. 
And  mow,  sir,  I  require  to  be  left  alone,  my  professional 
duties  must  be  attended  to." 

"  Well,  sir,  you  have  a  right  to  request  me  to  le«ive  your 
house,"  said  the  bishop,  while  rage  and  vexation  were 
visibly  at  work  within  his  breast,  "  but  the  courtesy  of  y©ur 
request  is  only  equalled  by  your  reverence  for  my  holy 
office." 

"  Save  your  sneers,  most  reverend,  sir,  for  those  upon 
whom  they  fall  with  some  eflfect— and  when  next  you 
call  upon  an  American  Protestant,  endeavor  to  divest^ 
yourself  of  the  idea  -that  you  are  in  the  house  of  a  Roman 
Csitholic — tempering  the  language,  and  measuring  the  mag- 
nitude of  your,  demand,  accordingly." 

Biting  his  lip  with  a  badly  disguised  mortification  at  thus 
bemg  baflBed  by  the  cool  courage  and  straight-forward 
language  of  my  friend—the  Bishop  withdrew  fi-om  the 
apartment  adjoining  the  one  where  I  had  been  writjn^ 
during  the  conference,  with  the  door"  partly  (^en — and  left 
the  hous&  with  a  firm  determination,  I  doubted  not,  of 
being  revenged  upon  us  all. 

Nor  was  I  mistaken  in  my  supposition,  as  the  sequel  will 
show. 


»  • 


Gratitude  ^ktkJLovE. 


4 


1 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Dawning  of  Lore-^The  ruoinatlng  Stranger— A  Pen-Portrait— The  Pleaiores 
o4(Charl|]r— The  Appeal— The  Promiw. 


SOd 
of 


O  much  devotion  to  my  interest,  exercised  on  the  part 
my  able  counsel,  could  not  be* regarded  with  indiffer- 
ence, and  I  began  to  feel  the  truth  of  the  aiiom  that  "grati- 
tude is  akin  to  love."  .  ir^      •  ;^     «^ 

Nor  did  he  appear  to  regard  jBOiiet^fUSi  merely  f^  stranger'- 
who  needed  his  professional  abilities  as  a  defence  against 
the  acts  of  those  who  set  both  the  laws  of  God  and  man  at 
defiance — for  I  had  observed'"  with  the  penetration  and 
perception  for  which  our  sex  is  noted,  that  a  more  than 
professional  solicitude  was  manifested  in  my  behalf. 

Sister  Agnes  had  been  observing  certain  looks  and 
glances  also,  and  had  quizzed  me  a  little  respecting  them, 
but  I  preferred  to  be  very  stupid,  and  would  not  " let  on" 
that  I  und^erstood  the  drift  of  her  inuendoes. 

It  will  be  more  convenient  in  the  course  of  my  narrative, 
hereafter,  to  designate  my  legal  fHend  by  his  surname, 
Clarence — and  I  shall  do  so  all  the  more  readily  because  I 
^  thmk  it  is  a  beautifol  name  and  will  look  well  in  prmt. 

Sister  Agnes,  with  her  sweet  dispodtion,  and  agreeable , 
manners,  had  also  endeared  herself  to  Clarence^and  his 


# 


¥ 


(■-  ..^ 


^i-- 


The  Dawning  or  Love. 


801 


^  sisters,  so  that  our  hoasehold  circle  was  one  of  great 
harmony  and  unallowed  happiness.  Bat  Sister  Agnes  was 
of  an  independent  tnrn  of  mind,  and  she  was  very  anxions 
to  get  some  genteel  emplq^ent,  so  that  she  should  not  bo 
a  burden  upon  the  family  of  her  new  acqimintance. 

I  also  desired  very  much,  indeed,  to  find  a  situation  as 
teacher  in  some  select  school,  or  to  have  a  few  pupils  in 
music,  whom  I  could  teach  at  their  homes.  We  informed 
Clarence  of  our  wishes  in  this  particular,  and  he  said, 
perhaps,  he  would  see  what  he  could  do  for  us,  at  the  same 
timd  intiiuating  that  he  should  not  ftnd  we  need  not  go  to 
\  much  trouble  "  in  the  matter?' 

When  he  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking  with  me  alone, 
he  informed  me  that  he  had  w'ritten  to  my  father,  desiring  a 
statement  of  his  wishes  regarding  my  disposal  and  asking  - 
permission  to  advise  me  respecting  any  proposals  of 
marriage  which  might  be  made  me.  He  said  this  with  a 
meaning  smile.  Clarence  has  a  calm  and  innocent  way  of 
saying  things,  and  although  such  a  proceeding  might  seem 
strange  to  a  stranger,  yet  when  its  purport  was  mentioned 
by  Clarence,  it  appeared  all  well  enough,  and  I  thanked 
him  for  his  consideration.       ^  « 

The  day  afterthis  intervievr,  a  lady,  who  said  her  name 
was  Lorimer,  caUed  in  to  solicit  a  donation  for  a  charitably 
object — and  managed  to  make  herself  so  agreeabM  that 
Adelaide,  Clarence's  eldest  sister,  invited  her  to  call  again. 
'  I  had  been  out  taking  a  stroll  with  Clarence,  and  when 
we  returned,  both  the  girls  gave  utterance  to  j|  volume  of 
eulo^tic  expressions,  regarding /tittr  enchaiiU^ng  ^Dtor-— 


:'-i^- 


fif 


802 


The  Charmino'  Visitor, 


80  extravaMnt  were  they  in  her  praise  that  I  accused  them 
of  hyperlHMe— but,  they  denied  most  strenuously,  that  they 
had  excee^ied  the  bare  truth  in  the  hs&t  degree 

They  said  I  would  have  an  opportunity  of  judging  for    \ 
myself,  as  this  charmiug  visitor  had  promised  to  repeat 
her  visit.  ■ 

About  the  third  day  after  her  first  visit,  the  lady  above 
referred  to  called  again,  and  this  time  I  was  at  home,  and 
was  introduced  to  Missj  Lorimer,  as  she  called  herself.    I' 
should  judge  her  to  be  about  thirty-five  years  of  age; 
although  there  was  nothing  of  the  old  baid  in  her  manner 
or  appearance..  On  the  contrary,  there  was  a  freshness  and 
,  buoyancy  in  her  movements,  and  a  seeming  artlessness  an^ 
^  frankness  which  won  upon  my  affections  very  rapidly,  and 
by  the  time  we  had  conversed  an  hour  or  so  upon  various     r 
subjects,  but  more  especially  upon  that  of  charity,  I  feft 
as  though  I  had  known  her  fw  mauy  a  year. 

She  was  not  beautiful  nor  pretty,  but  she  was  possessed 
of  charms  which,  in  their  "tout  ens^abk,^ joight  be  called 
handsome.    Her  hair  was  jery^^ark,  but  did  not  appear  to 
be  of  a  decided  black  j  her  eyes  were  positively  black,  and 
penetrating  in  their  expression.    A  well  rounded,  gracefully 
turned  and  elastic  figure,  about  five  fejiet  three  inches  in, 
height  must  complete  my  descnption.    The  power  of  fasci- 
nation appeared  to  be  a  gift  of  Miss  Lorhner's,  as  that  of 
"charming"  is  a  gift  of  the  ratflesnakes,  and  the  appropri- 
ateness of  this  simile  will  be  seen  before  I  shall  have  Con- 
cluded this  recital  of  my  experience  in  the  ways  of  Jesuitism. 
Added  to  the  advantages  I  have  named  above,  I  must 


.    \ 


•   i    '.  »■  'If 


-     ■WHJ.'T  'I'  ■t""  ^l    ■     1""^' 


A     PKN-rOUTHAIT. 


808 


A 


\ 


mentiou  those  of  a  naturally  fino  intellect,  cultivated  by  a 
thorough  education,  and  many  polite  accomplishments,  and 
still  the  portrait  is  hot  complete,  unlcsi^  I  say  in  the  words  of 

^  a  common  expression,  she  had  "  a  winning  way  about  hot." 
Indeed,  there  was  jno  resisting  the  attacks  ma^e  upon  the 
outworks  of  your  hearths  affections,  by  this  singular  woman, 
who  appeared  to  have  reduced  all  the  seductive  arts  into  a 
concentrated  battery  ;  which,  brought  to  bear  upon  your 
dotibts,  suspicions,  or  incredulity,  always  carried  them- by 
storm.  '  , 

So  thoroughly  impressed  was  I  with  the  conviction  that 
she  was  all  goodness,  all  honesty,  and  all  sincerity,  that  I 

.,  would  have  confided  the  secrets  of  my  very  soul  to  her 
keeping,  without  a  fear  of  their  betrayal. 

'  '  Charity  was  the  burden  of  her  song,  and  upon  this  snb- 
i|ject  she  was  truly  eloquent— dwelling  upon  its  pleasures 
and  lauding  its  beauties  as  the  youthful  lover  sings  the  rap- 

'  ture  of  his  mistress'  presence,  or  dwells  upon  her  iQvely 
charms  in  strams  of  glowing  poesy. 

"  Come,"  said  she  to  me — "  and  taste  the  delicious  joy 
of  domg  good — of  ministering  to  the  poor — of  pouring 
bahn  upon  the  wounded  soul — Of  dispelling  the  dark  clouds 
of  deep  despondency  and  making  .the  light  of  hope  shine  in 
upon  the  gloomy  minds  of  those  whom  desperation  drives  to 
thoughts  of  crime,  or  snicidip." 
itAh,"  said  I,  "most  gladly  would  I  also  be  a  good 

'  Samaritan,  but  I  am  poor  myself  and  have  no  means  of 
feeding  the  hungry,  or  of  clothing  the  naked." 

"  None  are  so  poor,"  was  her  reply,  as  to  be  unalije  to 


"-■■-'M 


:% 


.'  w- ■;  ;v 


m 


CHAW"»t. 


contribute  Bomething;  a  word  of  wnaolatlon,  a  cheering 
■mite,  a  look  of  ijmpathy,  Promiae  me  tMt  you  will  go  and 
■ee  the  rafTering  pOor,  and  pour  into  their  wounded  hearts 
.the  bahn  of  hope.'' 

To  resist  her  warm  appeals,  and  deny  a  request  so  easily 
complied  with,  during  my  idle  hours,  would  hare  been 
both  unfeoUng  and  Jmpolite;  and  in  troth,  although  there 
were  some  unpleasant  features  in  the  mission,  I  desired  to 
see  the  wider-current  of  society,  so  that  I  did  not  hesitate 
to  promise  her,  as  she  desired. 

Naming  a  day  when,  she  would  dall  for  me  the  following 
week.  Miss  Lorimcr  left  us,  not  jjthoat  many  regrets  at 
parting,  however,  which  being  eigissed  in  a  tone  of  sincere 
ftttachment,  had  the  eflfect  of  impressing,  us  still  more  favor- 
ably towards  her.  .  ^    "' 


\S 


.,'.« » 


'% 


^ 


w 


■  I 


l\ 


*,l. 


■^m..*^ 


-"^^K 


Trr  Three  Jesuits. 


3 
'.806 


i^f 


OHAPER  XIII. 


Tlw  JMult  BpU^-Tha  Angel  of  Meroy-Thi  Bj-w«yi  qf  the  OUy-Blenlon  Baftw 
ftnd  Ourwi  \  After— A'merlowii  and  Iriib— The  DeoepUon— The  Tnp-Prlionen 
•ffftln— A  Ratle  and  Insolent  Prteit— The  Vault. 

AS  soon  ks  Ml«8  Lorimer  had  left,  Jnlla,  Adelaide's  sister 
reqneitied  to  be  exonerated  from  the  charge  of  har-  . 
ing  indulged  in  hyperbole,  which  I  had  preferred  against  her, 
on  account  of  W  agreeable  visitor.  ' 

I  at  once  alcquitted  her  qf  •  having  exceeded  the  truth,  a8> 
I  fully  believM  at  the  time  that  Miss  Lorimer  was  entitled 
to  all  the  praises  which  had  been  lavished  upon  her  by  the 
two  unsuspecting  sisters.  -         »- 

Adelaide  playfully  pretended  to  some  degree  of  jealousy, 
because  of  the  marked  preference  shown  for  my  company  on  ' 
the  contemplated  mission  of  charity ;  and  Julia  said  she 
had  a  great  mind  to  quarrel  with  me. 

"We  were  sitting  at  the  front  parlor  wmdows  during  this 
colloquy,  looking  jout  upon  the  tide  of  humanity  sweeping  . 
by,  when  Adelaidt  suddenly  exclaimed  :  "See  there  I  whai 
ynd  of  people  areUhey  with  thosB  long  black  coats  on  ?" 

I  looked  acitssl  the  street,  and  saw  three  Jesuit  priests 
walking  along,  and|  looking  over  at  the  house  occasionally, 
but  in  theur  usually  sly  and  guarded  manner. 


^■Wh^ 


-an 


■TP-  ~ 


cT 


« 


li-' 


\s 


\ 


x 


[i 


fc'      0       • 


,'    *v> 


?4?;     ,,     , 


i'''.?i'^ 


>.i  ■  - 


a- 


(if 


<^ 


'>' 

:'■%'• 

« 

..     f 

■    '■'    ■ 

—     ^ 

-'    "« 

^^ 

■""T 

f 

•  ■ 

'    f 

306 

-i ; 

■.*-"' 

^• 


# 


■^rv 


:y^ 


The  Akg^i.  of  Mercy.s 


lits/'^Bftid  I,  whil 


"  They  are  Jesuits,"' Bftid  I,  while  a  tremor  seized  open 
me  in  defiance  df  a  straggle  to  throw  it  o£f. 

Neijiher  Adelaide  nor  Julia  perceiTed  my  agitation  on 
behblding  those  saintly  villains,  whom  I  knew  well  enough ' 
were  conteufplatiug  some  mischief  tb  myself ;  and  I  was 
ashamed  to  own  t^iat  I  could  experience  a  thought  o|  feav 
while  under  the  roof  of  their  courageous  brother.  .  l^blhin^ ;, 
of  moment  occurred  during  the  interval  of  time  between' 
the  last  visit  of  Miss  Lbrimer  and  her  promised  call  on  the 
Wednesday  following. 

-"She  came  at  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 
this,  time,  Sister  Agnes,  whose  curiosity  had  been  greatly 
excited  by  our  high-toned  coloring  of  Miss  Lorimer's  char- 
^adter  and  person,  was  gratified  ^th  a  view  of  our  "  Angel 
of  M^jsy,"  as  Adelaide  bad  named  her. 
I  Clarence  had  not  yet  returned  from  his  office,  and  the  day 
was  very  pleasant,  so  that,  needing  no  escort,  and  having 
none  had  we. required  any,  Miss  Lorimer,  Sister  Agnes,  to  • 
whom  an  invitation  had  extended,  and  myself,  set  out  upon 
our  wanderings  among  the  poor.    . 

Our  guide  conducted  us  along  and  through  the  most 
obscure,  the  dirtiest,  and  most  repulsive  streets  in  the  great 
metropolis,  in  a  quarter  the  least  frequented  by  those  who 
compose,  40  use  a  hackneyed  expression,  the  "  Better  classes  " 
of  the  community.  \ 

Nothing  was  yisible  but  aqaalid  wretchedness,  rags, 
misery,  and  filth  ;  while  the  mos\69Bnsive  language  greeted 
our  ^ars. .    -^-Ki-...  »  '  *J  ' 

The  Cilia  ^ 


^ppeare4  to  be  confifwd^ 


^.y^pj>s^"',ii^5'wt  'g*f*j^^. 


A  Contrast, 


30t 


Irish,  who  poured  upon  her  the  blessings  of  the  Virgin 
Mary  and  aU  the  saints  of  1^  calendar ;  but  what  they 
said  after  we  had  left,  when  they  found  we  had  but  little 
money  to  give,  I  leave  to  the  iipagination  of  those  who  know 
the  Irish  character  perhaps  as  well  as  I  do. 

I  remarked  to  Miss  Lorimer  that  there  appeared  to  be 
but  few  Americans  in  need  of  charity. 

"  They  are  a  proud  and  stiflf-necked  race  of  people,  who 
prefer  to  die  like  rats,  in  holes  'and  corners,  'rather  than 
make  their  necessities  known,"  was  the  reply,  uttered,  I 
thought,  in  rather  a  petulant  tone  of  voice.    The  thought 
struck  me  that,|he  might  be  of  Irisl^  birth  herseli;  so  that 
I  did  not  give  Expression  t<j^tjie  reflection  which  entered  my 
\    mmd,  that  the  Americans  did  no^  need  as  much  charity  as 
^^  the  Irish,  because  the  former  are  more  industrious,  intelli- 
\gent,  and  temperate  than  the  latter,  and,  in  fact,  we  alto- 
*    gether  infinite^  superior  to  them  in  every  attribute  of 
htunaiuty  ;  therefore  employmemt  is  all  that  is  required  to  place. 
-    them  beyond  the  necessity  of  taking  alms  from  the  charita- 
ble,, even  if  they  could  be  known,  while  employment  fails 
to  raise  the  Irish  above  the  level  where  pri^tcrafi,  aided  by 
ignorance,  intemperance,  and  superstition,  has  placed  them, 
and  holdsj  them  with  its  iron  chains. 

Nearly  three  hours  had  been  spent  in  this  region  of  reek- 
ing crime,  vice,  and  poverty ;  and,  sick  at  heart,  fatigued  in 
"body,  and  anidous  to  get  home,  I  proposed  that  we  should 
.leave  those  scenes  of  wretchedness;   but  Miss  Lorimer 
requested  iw  to  call  in  and  examine  an  institution  established  ^ 


benevolenF 


■\. 


•.;*,■*  ■ 


308 


The  Deobivbr. 


7,  « 


ing  poor  of  that  vicinity.  This  consumed  nearly  an  hour's 
time,  so  that  when  wo  staiAj  for  our  homes  "  the  shades  of 
evening"  were  gathering  round  us. 

Our  shortest^wp^wouli  have  been  across  the  city,  in  a 
westerly  du-ection|  until  we  should  reach  the/greai  Broad- 
way of  the  city ;  but  Miss  Loruner  prevaihii  upon  us  to 
take  a  car  on  the  more  democratic  tiioronghfare.  and  ride 
up  to  a  point  where  the  two  great  avenues  ionverged, 
arguing  as  an  excuse  for  this  step,  that  she  was  ^ous  to 
call  on  some  friends  this  evening,  as  slfeTiad  an  e^gement 

to  do  80.  __^ ,  ,  C 

Suspecting  nothing  wrong,  we  of  course  compfi^  with 
her  request,  although  Sister  Agnes  manifested  a  great 
desire  to  hurry  home,  lest  our  friends  should  be  uneasy 
at  our  protracted  absence.     Miss  Loruner  directed  the 
driver  to  stop  the  car  at  one  of  the  cross  streets,  about 
a  mile  from  our  starting-place,  which  we  soon  reached.    It 
was  now  getting  dark,  and  we  hurried  along  at  a  pretty 
rapid  rate.     Our  companion  told  us  that  we  should  be 
detamed  but  a  moment  at  the  house  where  she  wished  to 
'stop,    [presently  she  ran  up  the  stoop  of  a  very  large  house, 
and  quickly  ringmg  the  bell,  she  stepped  before  the  door- 
plate,  which  I  had  barely  time  to^notice,  was  of  an  unusual 
size,  and  requested  us  to  step  in  a  moment.     The  door  was 
opened  almost  immediately,  and  we  entered  the  hall,  and 
were  at  once  shown  into  the  parlor  by  Miss  Lorimer,  who 
appeared  to  be  very  much  at  home.     The  parlor  was  but 
dimly  lighted,  although  there  was  light  enough  to  enable 


ISC' 


The  Betraybd. 


309 


the  apartnent  we  had  entered,  and  we  tamed  an  affrighted 
look  towaids  each  other,  as  each  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  we  ha  fbeen  deceived. 

"  Excasi  J  me  for  a  moment,"  said  onr  deceitful  companion^ 
"  I  will  return  presently— aftnuse  yourselves  with  the  paint- 
ings;" and  with  a  low,  malicious  laugh,  she  left  us  to  our- 
selves, locking  the  door  after  her.    The  paintingaxMiXatho- 
Uc  subjects,  a  crucifix,  books  with  crosses  upon  thefii,  wel'e 
evidences  imugh  that  we  were  trapped  by  our  inveterate 
foes.    My  first  impulse  was  to  try  the  doore—all  were 
locked.    Sister  Agnes  made  an  effort  to  raise  the  sashes  of 
the  Vmdows,  but  could  not,  and  the  close  bUnds  outside 
appeared  to  be  made  expressly  to  prevent  escape.  • 
^     "  My  God  I"  exclaimed  ^ister  Agnes,  "Vhat  will  become 
"of  us  ?"  ani  clasping  her  hands,  she  threw  herself  upon  her 
knees  by  a  <!hair,  and  commenced  to  weep,  and  call  upon  God 
to  help  her. 

My  terro|r,  I  am  sure,  was  equal  to  hers,  but  I  kept  a 
better  command  of  myself,  and  strove  to  comfort  her.  And 
inspire  her  with  more  courage.  She  soon  recovered  from 
the  excessiye  fright  which  had  at  first  prostrated  her 
strength,  and  arising  from  her  kneHing  posture,  asked  me,  in  , 
a  calm  and  Collected  manner  what  was  to  be  done.  Let  us 
scream  for  help  said  I,  some  one  may  hear  us  in  passing 
hy.  ♦ 

^:J^^  went  to  the  window,  and  raising  our  voices  to  their  ^ 
shrillest  pitch^  we  screamed  and  called  for  help,  but  we  had 
not  time  to  i^epeat  our  criea  before  the  door  was  thrown 


ope%  ap4  Fath^ 


(as  we  discovered  afterwards,  u^ 


•BUJv 


.■MM 


/     ■-     .       ■     -^  ■- 

4 

• 

310        *  - 

The  Vault. 

'         '    <      ' 

recogniziDg  him  at  the  time)  with  twd  female  companions 
dressed  in  the  habits  of  nans,  entered  the  room. 

Father  L — —  advancing  directlj  to  me,  seized  me  by  the 
wrist  and  threatened  to  kill  me,if  I  did  not 'desist,  while  the 
nuns  seized  upon  Sister  Agnes  and  dragged  her  into  a  back 

apartment,  where  Father  L also  conducted  me,  although 

I  struggled  to  get  away  from  him. 

"  Let  me  go,  villain  I"  f.  cried,  "  you  will  repent  of  this  I" 

"  Who  will  make  us  repent.  Miss  Hunawajr  ?"  he  a^ked, 
in  an  insolent  manner.  j        \ 

"  i  have  frjettiteV  said  I, ."  who  will  not  desert  me.** 

''There  are  those  who  jiave  a  prior 'claim  upon  yon,  Sis- 
ter.  The  Church  and  your  father,  stand  between  you  and 
your  lover." 

"  My  lover  I"  I  exclaimed  indignantly;  "  but  no  1"  I  cried, 
as  contempt  took  the  place  of  anger  in  my  breast — "  yon 
cannot  insult  me,  scoundrel  priest  I"  .    * 

"  Holy  Virgin  I  Mother  of  God  1"  cried  she  by  whom  we 
had  been  betrayed — ^for  now  we  knew  her,  although  dressed 
in  the  habit  of  a  nun. 

"  What  sacrilege  1"  screamed  the  other. 

"  Take  her  to  the.  vault  1"  was  the  imperative  demand*of 

Father  L ^  his  face  being  purple  with  rage,  and  seizing 

me  rudely  by  the  arm,  he  almost  dragged  me  into  the  hall, 
and  down  a  flight  of  stairs',  thence  along  the  lower  hdl,  into 
an  apartment,  at  the  end  of  it,  which  seemed  to  beliet  into 
the  ground.  Thrusting  me  forcibly  into  this  cold  and  dam^ 
cell,  they  locked  the  door'  and  left  me  alone  in  the  dark, 
ii^ropliig  BTuoud  lu  Hearch  of  something  to  ue  upon,  1  tamT 


^*^ 


Di^nusss: 


311 


a  ronghly  constnicted  paUet,  upon  jrhieh  I  threw  myself 
and  wept  the  bitterest  tears  I  remember  ever  to  have  shed. 
But  it  was  not  for  myself,  alone,  that  my  tears  flowed  in 
copious  torrents ;  it  was  tfce  misery  of  my  dear  Sister  Agnes/ 
and  the  uncertainty  of  her  fate,  that  contrilSuted  greatly^^ 
my  distress  of  mind^i^ ;^ 


^-^ 


y,,^',m. 


.<  J    '» .ixYf-  ■^'wc^-^-r^s*- 


812 


My  Gi 


■#  »^ 


J     '  CHAPTER   XIV. 

M^eU— The  Conference— The  Superior-OrOM-QuesUontogs-What  is  a  Prisoner  T 
Sister  Ajfues— Liberty— The  Subterranean  Paasagfr-The  Archbishop—*'  Harping 
on  Liberty  "— Pra^g  to  aU  bnt  God— The  Return. 

■%  '       •■'■       ;v  ■.  '  -  .  ^  ■:"■■. 

PLACING  my  hand'  against  th6.  wall,  I  fornid  that  it 
was  cemented  and  had  a  finished  surface,  as  though 
prepared  with  some  care,  but  no  opening  could  I  discover 
which  would  answer  as  a  vent  for  the  confined  air  to  escape, 
and  as  a  means  of  ingress  for  the  pure  air  without,  save 
only  a  small  ^ndow-Uke  orifice  ciit  through  the  door,  and 
crossed  and  recrossed  with  h-on  ba-s,  I  had  lain  about  an 
hour  upon  the  dampened  pallet,  when  the  door  was  unlocked, 
and  a  nun  entered,  and  placed  a  lamp  and  some  coarse  food, 
with  a  small  mug  of  water,  a  cross  «nd  a  breviary  upon  the 
floor, 

"  How  long  am  I  to  be  confined  here  I"  I  asked. 

"  That  is  no  affair  mine,"  said  she,  "  but  I  should  think  as 
•  long  as  you  are  obdurate.''      . 

"Do  you  mean^s  long  as  I  refuse  to  be  a  nun  ?" 

"  I  mean,  as  long  as  you  contmue  to  strive  against  the 
workings  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  give  us  trouble  by  your 
foolish  flohtnmacy."- 


Old  Scenes  Revived.  315 

*   ,  ■ ' 

^  "  Bat  I  cannot  believe  that  the  Holy  Spirit  desires  a  sacri- 
fice  of  happiness,  a  senseless  confinement  of  the  free  mind 
of  the  senses,  and  of  the  body,  within  the  walls  of  a  convent " 

"  WVH  not  argue  that  now,  I've  no  time  to  discuss  the 
subject,"  sdid  she,  and  was  going  out,. when  I  asked  if  1 
could  be  allowed  to  see  Sister  Agnes. 

"I  will  ask  the  Superior,  and  let  you  know,"  was  the 
mil  answer,  saying  whi^h,  she  stepped  out  of  the  vault  and 
locked  the  door. 

^  In  a  few  minutes  the^Superior  entered,  and  asked  me  if 
I  wished  to  see  Sister  Agnes. 

I  answered,  that  I  did. 

II  Wai  you  promise  to  be  less  obstinate  ?»  she  asked. 

"  If  by  that,  you  mean  to  ask  me,  if  I  wiU  yield  a  jot  of 
my  determination,  never  to  become  a  nun,  I  answer,  no  I"      • 
'  Why  do  you  shun  the  life  ?" 
"  I  have  no  taste  for  it." 
"Why  did  you  escape  from  St  - . p 

"How  came  it,  that  Father  C— -  and  Sister  M—I 
were  locked  out  by  you,  on  the  night  of  your  escape  ?" 
I  locked  the  door  to  prevent  pursuit." 
^  How  did  it  happen  that  they  were  out  that  night  ?" 
''  You  wUl  have  to  ask  the  holy  father  himseW:" 
"  Where  have  you  reason  to  suppose  they  went  ?" 
"They  can  tell  you  best." 
"DM    they  ^0  t<f  the  ruins  of  the   old   .nn^.nf 


,   ■■/ 


ai4 


A    FrISONEB    NOT    A    PBISONEB. 


"I  think  they  did"  ' 

"  At  whose  honse  did  you  stay  while  in  town  ?" 
"  A  truthful  answer  to  that  question,  might  subject  my 
kind  protectors  to  some  inconvenience." 

"  We  know  in  whose  carriage  you  left  town."    / 

"Yes,  mftda™!-"  /- 

« ]^. seems  to  take  a  great  interest  in  your  affidrs." 

"  Yes,  madam."         \ 

"  He  cannot  be  entirely  disinterested."  .^ 

"The  consideration  of  fees  is  apt  to  interest  a  lawyer." 

"  But  you  have  no  meaiifl  to  pay  him." 

"I  shall  have,  if  I  ever  get  my  rights."  . / v    :r 

"  Your  fother's  fortune  is  still  involved." 

"  But  not  so  much  as  formerly)' 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"From  a  friend."     ^ 

"  He  wishes  you  to  remain  with  us  f^year  or  twd." 

"  And  wiU  you  keCp  me  ?" 

;  'Yes."  ■■■  ■     '      ■ 

"A  prisoner?" 

■"  ""No."    ~ :..■'■;■-■• 

"  You  will  not  let  me  go  ?" 
"  Ferhaps  not." 
^    «'  What  is  a  prisoner  ?" 

"  Would  you  like  to  go^up  stairs  Y* 
"Yes."  :    ---^ 

"You  may  go." 


'^  I  see  the  subterfuge,  but  it  matjrers  little  to  me,  ikhether 


-■> .  .■/; 


The  Promisb. 


315 


"From  the  upper  windows  yoa  can  see  the  Archbishop's 
residence,  and  the  cathedral." 
"May  I  attend  mass  7"  ,. 

"Yes."  .  t       - 

"In  the  cathedral?" 

"Yes.>'  --■:-■' T,: ;-•:-'-- 

<^Whenr  ,  • 

^.     "  To-morrow  morning,  if  you  wish." 
"And  Sister  Agnes  ?" 
"If^hy  should  we  indulge  you  ?" 
"Because  you  haye  injured  me." 
'  "  I  wiU  ask  the  Archbishop  if  Sister  Agnes  may  attend." 
"  I  should  like  to  see  her  to-night."  ' 

"  You  will  conspire  to  escape." 

"We  are  not  willingly  here." 

"  Promise  me  yau  WiU  not  attempt  to  escape." 
"I  could  not  escape  from  this  ceU  to-night,  were  I  to. 
attemj)tit."  . 

"  You  are  very  perverse,  but  I  am  disposed  to  be  indul- 
gent,  and  will  send  Sister  Agnes  down."  t 

She  went  away,  carefully  closing  and  jocking  the  door 
after  her,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned,  bringing  Sister 
Agnes  with  her. 

^  " Sister  Agnes,"  said  I,  "I  feel  very  grateful  that  I  am 

allowed  to  see  you." 

*  >  .  ■■■'■ 

"  Be  more  deserving,  and  we  wiU  be  more  lenient,"  said 
the  Superior,  as  she  went  away.  \. 

"  Do  you  know  where  we  are  ?"  was  my  first  inauiiy, 


//■ 


*fe- 


816 


•Hope. 


Y 


"  Then  we  cannot  esca]^^,I  suppose  V^ 

"  We  must  hope,  thou|bllhey  watch  me  very  clos^.  I 
might  throw  a  not^from  the  window,  if  I  could  obtain^the 
paper  aiM  a  pencil,  or  pen  and  ink,  to  write  it'  with." 

"  Let  us  pretend  to  be  more  reconciled  ;  it  is  the  only 
way  to  conciliate  their  favor.  Yesterday  I  was  angry,  an(^. 
acted  rashly.  I  am  asl^amed  to  think  of  the  epithet  whicfii 
I  applied  to  Father  L-t— ,  and  yet  I  know  that  he  deserves 
it.  The  Superior  has  promised  that  I  shall  go  to  mass,  and 
.  perhaps  you  will  be  allowed  to  accompany  me,  in  the 
morning."         ,  V  W  ^ 

"Where?"         ^  ^  .       '^  '« 

"  To  the  Cathedral."  *•       '/''"'' 

"Is  it  possible?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  cannot  believe  it— they  are  deceiving  you." 

"  They  may  adopt  some  plan  to  prevent  a  scene  in  the 
street,  or  there  is  something  in  it  which  I  do. not  under- 
stand." / 

"  Oh,  Sister  !  beware  how  you  trust  them  1" 

"  Lam  desperate.  *  Nothing  caube  worse  than  imprison- 
ment ;   and  now,  since  I  have  tasted  liberty,  I  in 
believe 


"  >  One  day,  one  hour  of  virtuous  liberty, 
'Is  vortb  a  wbole  eternity  in  bondage.' " 


"Do  not  despair,"  said  Sister  Agnes  ;" I  believe  that 

Mr. will  find  a  way  to  get  us  out."  | 

stDged  my  pi^let^ei 


GoiKo  TO  Mass. 


sn 


.J      and  dry  one,  and  asked  Sister  Agnes  if  she  would  prefer  to 
stay  with  me  till  morning. 

^   "Yes,  indeed  I"  was  Sister  Agnes'  earnest  answer. 
Half  the  night  was  spent  'in  revolving  over  in  our  minds 
_    plans  and  schemes,  of  escape,  but  at  last,  overcome  with' 
:       cxh|ia«tion,  we  sank  into  a  Blumber,  and  neither  of  us 
awcj^e  till  morning. 

Iwas  aroused  from  a  sound  sleep  by  the  pressure  of  a 
hand  upon  my  shoulder,  and,  starting  up,  I  found,  the  Supe- 
^riot  standing  by  my  side. 
\     "  Come,"  said  she,  "  it  is  nearly  time  to  say  mass." 

.       "  I  will  be  ready  in  a  moment.    Come,  Sister  Agnes  I"  I 
sai^,  "  let  us  go  to  mass." 
JThe  Superior  made  no  objection  to  this,  and  I  was  happy 

.  .  to  know  that  Sister  Agnes  was  to  accompany  me. 

We  were  soon  ready,  and,  following  the  Superior,  we  went 
out  into  an  area,  in  the  side  of  which  was  a  door,  and  this 
she  opened,  but  paused  a  moment,  as  if  expecting  some  one. 
We  had  not  waited  longer  than  a  minute  Or  two,  when  we 
were  joined  by  two  nuns,  who  had  a  small  kind  of  candela- 
bra,  having  three  Branches,  with  sockets  holding  as  many 
candles. 

Sister  Agnes  and  myself  drew  back  in  alajm,  as  we  feared 
that  we  should  be  led  into  some  gloomy  dungeon,  and  be 
incarcerated  for  life. 

/  The  Superior,  however,  in  a  kindly  manner,  assured  us 
that  it  waa  a  private  passage  leading  to  the  Cathedral, 
which  was  but>  a^short  distance  from  the  Inatitntion. 


The  lights,  illuminating  'the  vault-like  passage,  dispelled 


i 


I 


■'■r;  n^  *^f^^ 


I 


318 


The  Subterram^am  Vjmjlt. 


'%: 


X 


the  gloomy  aspect  of  the  i^e,  and  we  followed  after, the 
Superior  a,nd  one  of  the  nuns,  holding  a  candelabra,  while 
the  other  nun  followed  after  us. 

Proceeding  in  this  manner  for  a  considerable  distjiince,  we 
at  last  reached  a  door  at  the  eittremity  of  the  subterranean 
passage.    Here  we  paused  for  a  miMnent,  until  the  Superior 


unlocked  the  door,  when  we  all 


aaight 


of  stone 


steps  into  the  cljancel,  where  we  were  joined  by  the  Arch- 
bishop. He  took  us  by  the  hand  in  a  manner  intended  to 
be  fatherly,  but  his  displeasure  Waspl&inly  visible. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  be  coinmenced,  "  that  two  of  our  young- 
est and  fairest  daughters  should  give  us  so  much  trouble  ? 
What  would  you  have,  my  children  ?" 
<    "  Liberty,  father,  liberty,"  said  I. 

"Liberty  I    I  am  told  you're  always  harping  on  that 
word.    You  do  not  know  its  meaning.    In  the  /sense  thait 
you  require  it,  it  mea-na  fjiberty  to  go  into  thel  world,  to 
expose  yourself  to  all  the  evil  ihfluences,  the  vic|ous  con- 
tacts, the.  severe  temptations,  ever  to  be  dreaded  in  this 
modem  Sodom  of  an  heretical  land — ^m  this  imbecile  <iommu- 
nity,  calling  itself  enlightened,  but  whose  morju  attributes 
are  sinking  from  day  to  day,  as  may  be  witneissed  even  in- 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  this  niost  holy  edifice." 
"Father,"  I  replied,  "  we  have  not"-— 
"  Speak  for  yourself  I"  sajd  the  Archbishop]  sharply. 
►  "  Yes,  father.,    I  have  not  found  it  so.    I  have  been  But-, 
\  ron&ded  by  an  atmosphere  of  purity ;  a  circle  of  generous-, 
_noble^  and  ^uoufl  Mends,  whose  contact  |waa  not  to  be 


dreaded,  and"- 


■<r 


The  Pratkb. 


219 


'^^' 


"  Yoa  do  not  know  the  world/'  again  interrnpted  the 
Archbishop  ;  "it  is  full  of  deceit.  You  are  a  child,  to 
trust  it.  Come,  let  utf  engage  In  our  holy  oflBces,  and  pray 
to  the  .ever  blessed,  the  Immaculate  Mothej  6f  Mary  •  the 
Virgin  Queen  of  Heaven;  to  Jesus  Christ,  her  glorious 
Son  I  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  all  the  saints  and  holy  hosts  in 
heaven,  ttt&l  you  may  be  saved  from  the  contamination  of 
the  world."  .      . 

I  do  not  know  what  the  substance  of  <Aar  prayers  was, 
the  services  being  mostly  rendered  in  Latin ;  but  I  know 
that /prayed  tb^  Goo  (whom  they  had  never  thought  to 
name),.  Jo  deliver  me  from  the  hands  of  my  jailors. 

The  cereilaony  completed,,  the  Archbishop  administered  a 
.  brief  admonition  to  Sister  Agnes  and  myself,  to  be  prayer- 
ful, patient  and  obedient ;  ufter  whieh,  following  our  guides, 
we  retraced  our  steps  along  the  gloomy  passage,  and  soon 
reached  our  cell,  where  we  were  Ipcke'd  in  by  our  tender 
Mother  Superior.  ^    "  '  -  ,'' 

But  little  tune  wai^  left  us^for  consultation,  as  we  were 
interrnpted  by  the  entrance  of  the  Superior,  aocomptoled 
by  a  priest  of  the  Order  of  Jesuits,  who  was  left  alone  with 
me  while  Sister  Agnes  was  ordered  to  follow  the.  Superior.  1 


#', 


. '  -i 


1' 


\-      ': 


I 

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f 

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. 

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820 


The  Handsome  Confessob. 


...!^ 


CHAPTER  XT. 

The  Tempter  and  the  Tempted— Threats— The  Heretic— Another  ConTenfrr-Oagged 
,      and  Blinded— The  Bide— The  Convent  of  the  Sabred ■  —The  Oay  Superior. 

MY  visitor  seatqd'  himself  upoii  a  low  stool  in  my  cell, 
and  appeared  to  be  somewhat  coDfased.  ,. 
He  was  a  fine  looking  yonng  man,  and  had  the  appear- . 
,  ance  of  a  miin  of  the  w'orld  rather  than  a  priest,  who', 
believed  in  and  practised  the  offices  of  his  calling.    His 
forehead,  was,  high,  broad,  and  handsome — his  hair  and 
eyes  black — his  features  fine  and  expressive — and  his  voice 
as  mnsical  as  Apollo's  Inte.  r  a 

'^Sister,'' he  commenopd — after  an  aitrkward  and  painfol 
paose,  as  though  he  had  entere<Lmy  cell  before  he  had 
decided  upon  his  plan  of  acticjfif  and  ^required  time  to 
'x^    arrange  it  in  his  mind,  ere  he  ventaired  to  address  me.  .| 
(^/""Sister,"  said  he,  "they  tell  me  you  are  intractable,  diffi- 
Nsult  to  please,  perverse,  and  self-willed — but  I  am  not 
mcUaed  to  believe  it.    I  think  I  know  the  cause  of  your  i 
1^1  dissatisfaction.    You  find  the  rules  of  the  convents  too  rigid 
•  and'  too  irksome  in  thejyr.  observance  ;  your  tejpiperament 
and  disposition  rebel  against  the  austerity  and  sdemi^ty  of 
a  convent  lite  I  at  least,  such  convent  life  as  yoa  have~^ 


■*•• 


321 


Thk  Difference. 


experienced  in  the  twd,  where  you  have  lived.    Is  it  not 
■  so?"    1 

"Bujt  Sister,  we  have  other  religions  honses,  where  yonr 
enjoyments,  yonr  pleasore?,  your  freedom,  will  be  greater." 
I  "  I  am  not  suited  to  the  life,  even,  in  a  much  more  modi- 
4ed-form  than  any  I  have  known,  and  your  arguments  are 
ldsto4me."  >  -... 

\"  Y|)u  should  not  decide  Vl^out  experience." 
"  I  l^ave  had  jeiperience  enough.^  .  -" 

"  But  not  of  the  kind  I  am  urging  now,  for  I  am  sure 
you  could  not  object  to  the  life  of  a  nun,  in  the  convent  of 
the  Sacred — «— ." 
"  Wherein  does  it  differ  from  others  ?"  \ 

*'  Th^  confessors  are  all  refined,  intelligent,  and  youthful 
men,  cobpared  with  those  of  the  convents  you  have  lived  at ; 
the  ami^ements  are  more  like  those  of  the  world,  and  love 
is  unrestricted."  Aa  be  uttered  the  last  sentence,  hQ  drew 
nearer  to  me,  and  attempted  to  take  my  hand.  But  I 
withdraw  to  the  extremity  of  my  narrow  cell,  and  ordered 
him  to  desist  from  offering  any  further  arguments  in  favor 
of  a  convent  Iif(B.  v^,  ^«  ' 

"  My  determination  is  irrevocable,"  said  I.  '     ' 

"Can  nothing,"  he  asked—" no  consideration  under 
heaven,  move  you  ?"  •  * 

J*^ I"    ,:^i__^_^ :.-'■"•      ''^'  .    :    '  ■  .,..    !_:_,  _ 

"T5»en,"  said  he,  losing  his  temper,  "you  have  been 
descri|bed  correctly,  as  an  obstinate,  self-willed,  headstrong 

girl"! 

•     \  •         ■       '  ,  ^ 

■•.      14*  .  :-      ■■        -■' 


^ 


823 


The  Soul  will  Mount. 


"  Yoti  may  call  me  what  you  please." 

"  We  may  find  a  way  to  bend  your  stabborn  neck,  and 
bring  your  high  head  down." 

"Yon  may  achieve  a  glorious  victory  in  crushing  to  the 
earth  a  frail,  weak  form  like  mine,  but  the  soul,  will  mount 
to  Heaven,  if  it  be  pure,  though  all  the  Bishops,  priests, 
and  prelates  of  the  Church  of  Rome  essay  to  keep  it 
down.*'  ** 

"  Heretic  1  you  have  left  the  only  istae  Church,  out  of 
which  there  is  no  salvation  I" 

"  Ihave  been  hunted  from  the  church  you  claun  so  much 
for." 

"  You  confess  then  I"  • 

"I  may  love  that,  from  which  I  have  been  driven.  My 
heart  may  cling  to  it,  while  my  persecutors  are  drawing  me 
away  from  it." 

"  It  is  a  struggle  between  the  Holy  Spirit  and  the  Devil, 
and  you  assist  the  latterl" 

*'  There  are  4^^  ^^  torment  me,  against  whom  the 
charge  of  a  league  with  Satan;  might  better  be  preferred." 

"  Whom  do  you  accuse  ?" 

"  My  jailors."  -    '  .*» 

"  Who  are  they  ?»  f  . 

"  My  persecutors."  Jfe 


ft-rf* 


"  Name  them." 

"They  are  too  numerous  to  name,  and  some  of  them  I 
do  not  know."  1^  / 

,     **  Yon  evade  answering  my  questions."  ./ 

"  i  oannot  answer  them." 


'>- 


W    ■ 

• 

. 

.      '    ,       *'        ' 

«•>» ' 

'■  • 

'          •• 

^^-^-. 

,j',:v 

•' 

Thb  Strugolk.  wjm  Satan. 


323 


"  I  see,"  said  he,  rising,  as  if  to  go.  "  Yob  are  canning 
«kd  firm,  but  we  may  outwit  you  and  bend  your  stubborn 
spirit  too." 

"I  am  ih  your  power,"  I  replied,  "and  you  have  not' 
spared  me  heretofore.     I  know  that  I  must  suffer,  but  not 
always.    Your  temporal  and  spiritual  power  is  limited  to 
earth — ^but  in  the  Spirit-land,  where  tyrants  cannot  come, 
'tis  love  that  rules."  / 

"  Who  is  the  tyrant  here  ?"  " 

"  There  is  one  mightier  than  the  rest,  and  many  under 
him  who  do  his  will." 
^'  Ydu  speak  in  enigmas."  ^    " 
"  I»  I  were  free,  I  would  be  flfee  to  speak." 
f '  It  is  a  waste  of  time  to  arge  with  you.    I  leave  yon 
ilone  to  stru^le  with  the  Devil,,  since  yon  reject  the  aid  of 

ihose  who  have  ^e  power  to  drive  him  hence.    Saying 
rhich,  the  Jesuit  left  the  cell,  and  I  felt  as  though  it  was  / 
who  had  driven  forth  the  evil  one. 

I  remained  in  my  cell  four  days  longer  in  solitary  con- 
finement, excepting  when  the  attendfuit  came  to  place  the 
necessaries  of  life  upon  the  floor,  when,  on  the  fifth  day,  the 
Superior  came,  and  taking  a  seat  upon  the  pallet,  asked  me 
if  I  was  well 

"  Yes,"  I  answ^ed,  "  that  is  I  am  fi-ee  from  actuid  pain 
or  dangerous  sickness,  'but  my  health  most  suffer  from  con- 
finement in  a  place  like  thi&" 


\~-k 


"You  look  pale ;  but  the  bloom  would  soon  return  to 
your  cheeks,  and  the  fire  to  your  eyes,  if  you  would  take  an 
occasioii 


■      '      i  is'.    I  .  ■■  ■ .  ..^  .■-  -■-  'V 


».-» 


#• 


- '  "V  ■ 


824 


Hopes  of  Escape.  ' 


^ 


1 

-L^^ 

•■ 

(  • 


the  Sacred — -i — }  with  the  agreeable  confessor  who  visited 
you  on. Tuesday  last.  *He  talks  of  no«ne  but  you  now,  and 
seems  to  have  been  most  favorably  impressed  by  your  attrac- 
tions. Will  you  ga  to  the  ladies'  convent,  where  he  and 
other  handsome  confessora  resort  ?" 
"  Madam,  a  gilded  cage  is  still  a  prison/' 


^  "  But  thfi-deUcate  wires  of  a  gilded  cage  do  not  exclude 
the  cheerful  light  of  the'  glorioitt  sun,  and  the  sweet  refresh- 
mgaaJ*. 

Concluding  at  once  that  a  change  might  be  attended  with 
opportunities  to  escape,  and  knowing  that  I  was  proof 
against  the  temptations  which  I  foresaw  "were  in  store  for  me, 
I  determined  to  go  to  the  convent  they  had  selected  for  me, 
but  not  without  an  effort  to  secure  the  companionship  of 
Sister  Agnes.  '       '  *^ 

"  Only  on  one  condition  could  I  be  induced,"  sJaid  I. 

»' Name  it." 

"  That  Sister  Agnes  shall  accompany  me.'' 

'*  She  has  consented  on  the  same  Condition." 

".When  do  you  wish  us  to  go  7^ 

"To-night;'        ,  ^     •  :,     '    -, 

MWeU,  I  consent."        *  *     ' 

"  But  we  have  our  conditions  also." 

"  What  are  they  r'  v        •        •  * 

"  That  you  go  peaceably,  and  have  a  handkerchief  tied 
over  your  moutbr,  and  another  over  your  eyes.  There  is 
nothing  painful  in  it,  and  our  safety  requires  the  precau- 
tion.''' .     .  .         . 

"Iconaent."  1^    '  '   "^'-'  '     ''  •    '  •  "  •"■"   '  '  "' 


.r 


I    "  . 


■'  i.'^t'.- 


',-.-:.,      X: 


Gagged  *AND  Bundfoldkd. 


"  I  will  send  for  yoti  at  about  ten  o'clock." 

"  I  shpil  be  ready,  madam.'' 

"  Good  evening." 

*' Good  evening." 

And  once  again  I  was  locked  witWn  that  dismal  cell. 


When  the  hour  appointed  had  arrived,  .a  Coarse,  mascu- 
-line-looking  nun  came  to  theVault,  and  making  known  het^ 
business,  bound  a.handkerchief  over  my  mouth,  and  another 
across  my  eyes,  4hen  throwing  a  loose  gown,  with  a  hood 
attached  to  it,  over  my  shoulders  and  head,  she  led  me  out^ 
into  the  pwsage,  up  stairs;  and  along  the  upper  hall,  where  ' 
I  was  joined  by  some  one,  whose  hand  was  plaqed  in  mine. 
I  supposed  it  to  be  Sister  Agnes,  but  in  order  to  be  sure  of 
it,  I  felt  her  shoulders,  neck,  and  fece.     •  >^    * 

Out  guides,  perceiving  my  distrust,  led  us  into  the  Jparlor, 
and,  taking  the  bandage  from  our  eyes,  allowed  us  to  look  . 
at  each  other  for  an  instant.    It  was  Sister  Agnes,'  and  I 
felt  my  courage  return.     '  ' 

We  then  had  our  arms  tied  down  to  our  sides,  and  were 
ied  out  to  a  carriag^.    After  soQie  little  delay  at  the  door, 
as  though  they  #ere  looking  to  see  if  the  way  was  clear 
at  the  words  "all  right,"  they  led  us  out.    The  moment; 
we  were  seated,  witti  a  guard  on  either  side  of  \a,  the  ciir- 
riage  drove  off  rapidly.    We  could  hear  the  noise  and  v 
rattle  of  other  vehicles  as  they  passed  t«,  and,  occasionally^  * 
the  hum  of  voices.    =„^^^-^^.:v^/_^i:tt^.^___21_^._'. 


After  riding  for  about  an  hour,  the  carriage  was  drjiwn  up) 
jM  it  appeared  to  me,  against  the  cnrbigg  of  the  sidewalk. 


'4, 


afld  weMre  conducted  through>a  gateway,  along  li  stone- 


.1 


-,.^■■ 


•y-.\-  .. 


;^«  ■■#-: 


f  .*,  ^-..^:;. 


r 


8S6 


The  New  Convent. 


paved  pathway^  ilpA  %ht  of  steps,  and  into  «  hall,  with- 
ont'the  least  pao^e,  as  we  were  evidently  eiq)ected.  From 
the  hall  we  were  goided  into  a  room,  where  the  bandages  were 
taken  from  our  eyes  and  months.  The  apartment  in  which 
we  found  ourselves  was  elegantly/and  tastefully  furnished,  in 
a  somewhat  olden  style,  but  having  nothing  of  a  sombre 
appearance,  such  as  is  apparent  in  the  reception  rooms  of 
convents  generally.  There  was  pcrcepliibly  an  effort  made 
to  hit  the  happy  medium  between  the  fashionably  gay  and 
gaudy  furniture  of  our  modem  and  flashy  aristocracy,  and 
the  more  staid,  substantial,. ancient  and  honorabWlookmg' 
eagleKjlawed  and  dragon-footed  furniture  of  the  time-honored 
Knickerbocker  race. 

The  effect  ;jfas  decidedly  agreeable,- perhaps,  rendered  the 
more  so  to  m?,  from  the  fact  of  my  having  so  recently 
emerged  from  my  yi^jlt-like  apartnientTmder  ground. 

Havmg  seated'^ourselres;  at  an  invitation  fh}m  pne  of  otur 
I,  we  were  requesWd  to  await  the  appearance  of  the 
Superior.  The  nuns  who  had  accompani^  us  then  with- 
drew, and  we  could  he^  the  sdmaid  of  vdces  in  the  hall  for 
leVeral  minutes. 

A  tall  and  handsdme-looldng^  woman  was  the  first  to 
enter.  She  announced  herself  «8  the  Mother  Superior  of 
the  Novices,  and  commenced  talting  very  pleasantly,  and, 
aa^  I  thought,  somewhat  too^Iightly,  for.one  ia^r  posi- 
tion.  __.__^     ,._      ___     ,  .    „.  ."L     -        '  V  >  V ,:    ■  ■ 

"•foil  incorrigible  yonng  rogues,"*  said  she  saSSfigljt 
**  yon  have  tested  the  patie>ncfr  of  our  more  isolenm  fathers 
ieriseTBr^;     They^hooRrbsTrim^JWii  better  fSOSIDp 


T'fiDms'i' 


ft      -|.;<S-->t 


%■ 


ff 


The  (^ay  Supi^ior.  •  \    32 1 

"  tne^  8and;imonioas,.  loog-faced,  old  carmudgeoos,  than  to 
have  gma  snch  heavy  dostea  of  grace  and  ce»mony  t6 
snch  graleless  and  fun-loving,  young  scamps.  But  never 
mmd  ;  here  you  may  smile  and  laugh,  and  frolic,  too,  if  you 
lyce,  so tlialyop  do  not  neglect  your  easy  duties  ;  because 
^  there  wilU  come  a -day  when  a  knowledge  of  them  will  be 
useful  to  ;^ou,  anjt  (their  observance  pleasant.  You  will  sober 
down  in  time,  you  know  ;— but  it  is  not  well  to  anticipate  old 

ffage.  Our  handsome  father-confesspr,  although  you  put  him 
out  a  little,  was  very  much  taken  with  you,  Sister  L--^. 
He  speaks  in  raptures  of  your  wit  and  beauty,  but  censures 
your  obduracy.  Sister  Agnes,  you  are  looking  well.  How 
is  your  health  ?',' 
"I  enjoy  pr^y  good  health,  thank  yflu,"  said  Sister 

;    Agnes,  **  considering  my  trials." 

The  Saperior.ha(}  ran  on  at  such  a  rattling  rate,  that  I 
fairly  lost  Bjy  breath  in  trying  to  keep  up  with  her.  It  was 
truly  fatiguing.  •. 

\  "  Oup  community,"  pontinued  the  Superior,  "  is  made  up 
of  agreeable*^ people,  who  are  more  suited  to  associate 

'  with  our  neophyte  pupils.  Austerity  is  well  enough  in  its 
place,  but  jt  is  unwise  to  forc§  nature  too  harshly.*  Eigid 
rules  cannot  make  good  nuns,  any  more  than  a  law  can 
transform  an  Englishman  into  a  ^Spaniard  }  but  our  Solons 
of  the  long  robe,  who  are  better  skilled  in  theology  than  in 

^  thi  philosophy  of  human  nature,  scorn  to  be  instructed  by  a 
woman  ;  and  I  have  talked  to  them  in  vain.  Are  you  fond 
of  music,  Sister y »  " 


1 

,  J 

- 

.  -, ■;;■ 

-  < 

^ 

f 

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r 

V 

\ 

' 

f<, 

■ 

i 

" 

1 

i. 

^ — 

- 

V- 


^'ile^kTr;>(W. 


828 


f^__y*»>  i'Sfj?' 


Comfortable  Booms. 


"  Yon  must  hear  Miss  Xj- play  a9d  sing.    She  is  the 

best  harpist  we  have.  Bat  come,  yod  may  wish  to  go  to 
your  rooms  ;"  and  we  were  shown  to  our  apartments,  which 
were  very  cpmfortably  famished. 


I- 


I 


N 


c 


\ 

1 

'^ 

-■■ 

J. 

't 

'a 

•-> 

SI 

■1 

- 

^^; 

t  . 


The  TJbjl:p  for  Youn0  Ladies. 


329 


i5*-' 


ThePopeiy-Trap 
tat-T-K  Confes 


tlon— aoae  Q^estlonLog. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


-Aipiable  Snakes— The  gnlUble  Protestants— The  f Ither  Gonfcs- 
r  in  Love-^The  Jealous  Superior— A  Scene— An  aiigiyAllerca- 


/ 


A  WEEK'S  experience  in  this  trap  for  young  ladies,  gave 
me  an  insight  into  its  purposes,  and  its  i^ethpd  of 
&ccompIi|shing  them.  i    , 

-  Located  amidst  the  wealthier  class  of  dtizens,  \wJip  had 
retired  j.o  that  quiet  part  of  the  city,  where  they  live  an 
exclusive,  aristocratic,  and  luxurious  life,  this  "Institution  " 
sends  out  its  emissaries  among  the  careless  Protestants,  to 
worm  their  way  into  favor,  and  to  praise  the  "  Institution," 
as  one  aflfording  peculiar  and  great  advantages  over  any 
other,  as  an  Acadamy  of  Learnipg.  In  this  way,  many 
pupils  are  secured ;  while  the  few  Catholic  families^  of 
wealth  who  send  their  daughters  to  the  "  Institution,"  are 
con^taatly  dwelling  upon  their  daughters'  astonishing  pro- 
g^6ss,  and  urging  their  Protestant  friends  to  avail  them-'^ 
selves  of  the"  "advantages"  of  so  excellent  a  Religious 
^ House.  Parents,  "good,  easy  souls,^-are  pr^ailed  upon 
to  visit  the  "  L'"^''""  " 


amiable  snakes,  wind  themselves  around  the  hearts  of  their 


■■...iv- 


^r' 


% 


•      I  ^ 


A  • 


830 


Thbt  never  Proselyte! 


A- 


credalons  visitors,  and  twine  themselves,  with  a  salient 
smoothness,  about  the  afiFections  of  the  "  tender  parents," 
so  that  the  "parents,"  no  longer  able  to  withstand  the 
"very  agreeable"  and  "  eminently  pious  "Mother  Supe- 
rior's fascinating  manners,  consent  to  send  their  daughtera  to 
the  popery-trap  to  become  "  accomplished  "- — Catholics. 

I  have  heard  them  Ipugh  over  the  "  gullibility  "  of  Amer^ 
ican   Protestant   mothers  (Heaven  save    us  from    such 
"mothers  1")  whom  they  have  duped  by  thfeir  pious  looks, 
their  assumed  suavity,  thdr  acting  of  tHe  "  persecuted " 
sdiut,  their  "resignation  to»the  will  of  Providence,"  their 
artful   flatteries,   and    all    the  "appliances  and  means" 
JiflForded  by  4  well-arranged  and  faithfully-studied  system  of 
hypocrisy.     The  "Ladies"  do  not  try  to  proselyte  their 
pupils,  because  they  have  promised  the  "parents  not  to  do 
s&;.and  "ladies"  always  keep  their  word.     They  only 
make  a  liberal  display  of  crosses,  rosaries,  scapularies,  mis- 
sals, aiid  breviaries,  popish  medals,  pictures,  ^c,  &c.,  witli 
a  continual  exhibition  of  sundry  motions  in  the  air,  figuring 
out  a  cross ;  to  say  nothmg  of  involontary  ejaculations, 
respecting  the  Immaculate  Virgin,  tb^  Mother  of  God; 
Holy  Saiiit  Frances,  a^d  a  host  of  other  saintly  names,  as 
pass-words  to  paradise ;  the  leather  and  3on  Wng  the  least 
cabled  upon  of  any.       '-'"'-■ ''''■.■  \  '',' -^^^ -■ 

These,  with  the  technical  terms  of  "purgatory,"  " abso- 
lution," "  confession,"  and  the  expressive  phrases  connected' 
therewith,  must  have  their  influence  Over  the  tender  ^d,  • 
.and  if  that  influence  is  not  of  a  proselyting  character/ then  ~ 


Bverse," 


ig  fitill  in  i|i"^ 


.r-.'l 


t'.- 


t-z  .  ■^".^' 


Institution  OP  Easy  Piety. 


831 


fe. 


,1* 


of  Vacation  ;  the  papil  is  either  progressing  or  retrograd- 
ing; and  educating  the  mind  to  become  accustomed  to  the 
Catholic  forms  and  ceremonies,  is  progressive  or  the  reverse. 
Which  is  it?  / 

Sister  Agnes  and  myself  were  allowed  mmj  liberties  in 
„  this  InstitutionJ^easy  piety,  but  we  conld  readily  perceive 
that  we  were  watched  with  great  vigilance,  although  at  a 
distance,  ^e  building  was  enclosed  by  a  brick  wall,  of 
coi^iderable^eight,  so  that  we  could  not  hope  to  escape  by 
means  of  aa  eseallidl.  We  did  not  despair,  however,  of 
getting  dut  of  this  nei^il,  by  ^ome  means,  and  were  con- 
stantly/watchmg  for  an  opportunity.  We  were  not  allowed 
to  spealk  with  those  pupils  who  did  not  reside  permanently 
at  thetiistitution,  and  they  were  always  attended  by  one 
of  the  teachers;  as  fa^-as  the  gate,  which  wad  locked  again 
as  soon  as  th,e  pupils  hali  passed  ou(. 

One  day;  the  same  father  confessor  who  had  called  to  see* 
me  at  the. convent  (where  we  were  taken  by  the  female  Jesuit, 
who  called  herself  Miss  Lor^et)  came  into  the  parlor  where 
I  was  sitting,  after  school  hours,  and,  seated  himself  close 
beside  me.  I  drew-  my  seat  away  from  him,  and  he  did  not 
then  attempt  to  foUow  me,  but  said,  "  Daughter,  you  find 
this  abode  much  more  endurable,  I  think,  than  any  yon  have 
lived  at  yet."  i 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "but  tlere  are  restraints  enough* 
lipon  me,  to  keep  me  always  reminded  of  my  condition."^ 

Then  changing  the  subject,  I  inquired  about  Wy  father 
aiid  sisters. 


j^, 


iii  / 


.^tdi^^ 


T? 


:^■ 


832 


A  Lots  Soenc. 


■/.,;■ 


t 


"They  are  well,  and  wish  you  to  become  reconciled  to 
live  in  4  Keligioos  House." 

"I  should  not  be  a  burden  upon  them,"  I  answered,  "if 
I  were  allowed  my  freedom,  and  why  should  they  insist  upon 
my  becoming  a  nun  against  my  will  ?" 

i'They  have  their  reasons."    ""^-        ■'"''    ■-  :  ■    ■  ■"" 

"I  suspect  it  is  iipt  so  much  their  fault,  that  I  am 
deprived  of  liberty,  as  it  is  t^e  fault  of  othew.". 

"  What  do  you  desure  more  than  you  have  here  ?" 
"  Freedom  1" 

"  You  have  evgigLSomfort  and  many  luxuries." 
"  All  embittered  by  i^risonment"     \  ' 

•  "  There  are  those  who  love  you,  here,  and  it  grieves  their 
hearts  to  know  that  you  are  miserablp," 
"  I  know  of  none  who  love  me,  but  Sister  Agnes."  ^ 
"  You  are  loved  f  said  the  father  confessor,  with  emphasis, 
and  he  gazed  intently  into  my  face  and  upon  my  person,  as 
he  uttered  the  words.  I  could  not  endure  the  ardent^ 
aUnost  passionate,  expression  of  his  eyes,  and.  coloring 
deeply,  turned  away  my  head  to  hide  my  deep  confusion. 

He  arose;  and  walked  the  room  with  hasty  steps,  pg 
agitation  increased,  and  I  could  hear  the  deep  drawn  sighs 
of  his  heaving  breast,  as  he  approached  me  in  his  walk 
across  the  floor. 

'  There  was  a  pause  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  the  silence 
had  become  painful,  when  the  confessor  came  to  me,  and 
placing  his  hand  upon  my  head,  commenced  to  say—"  Love's 
holy  flpii^  dwells  in  breas|i  of  kings,  and,"— -at  this  ' 


'  --^Afc^  _ 


— ^ 


Thb  Green-Etei^  Monster.'  ^3 

moment  the  Lady  Saperior  enlered  the  room,  when  the 
confessor  seeing  her;  said  nbruj^tly,  "God  bless  yoti  my 
cliild,  and  may  he  teach  you  to  be  obedient."  ? . 

The  searching  and  suspicious  glance  of  the  Superior,  and 
the  dark  cloud  of  gloom  that  flitted  across  her  face,  told  me 
Oi  tale  of  love  and  jealousy  not  td  be  mistaken,  and  indeed,  a 
far  leu  practiced  eye  than  hers,  could  easily  perceive  the 
flush  of  the  warm  blood  upon  his  cheek,  and  a  less  practised 
ear  could  i^adily  detect  the  low  quavering  of  his  deep-toned 
voice.         \  '  ■ 

Sh&  stood  for  an  instant  as  if  transfixed  to  the  floor,  an^ 
then  rapidly  glancmg  from  one  to  the  other  with  flashing  eyes, 
she  said,  "  Father  Gonliibr,  you  are  rightly  named,  first 
you  confessed  to  me,  that  you  were  stricken  with  admiration 
of  a  certain  fair  daughter,  and  now,  if  I  mistake  not,  you 
have  confessed  again.  Really  we  must  have  a  curb  put  upon 
our  high-spirited  confessor." 

"Madam  1"  exclaimed  the  confessor^  angrily,  "this  is  my 
affair  1"  Then  taking  her  hand,  he  sai^  "  This  way,  I  would 
apeak  to  you  in  private."  She  followed  him,  unresistingly,  . 
and  I  wa»  left  4^  my  own  reflections.  I  could  hear  the 
^voices  of  the  Confessor  and  'the  Superior  in' the  next  room. 
They  were  evidently  engaged  in  an  angry  altercation.  I 
wais  greatly  alarmed,  and  my  agitation  was  excessive. 
Seeking  for  Sister  Agnes,  Xiin'mediately  informed  her  of  the 
scene  which  ha^  transpired  in  the  parlor.  She  was  just 
finishing  a  piece  of  needlework,  and  was  about  to  look  for 
me,  when  I  ran  into  the  rbom,  excited  and  frightened. 

Wfl  wftrfl  tfllking  nvpir  thft  affair,  whfin  o^ienf  tho  tcaohcya 


•I: 


V 


T" 


S{0 


/   / 


,/y 


/      / 


834 


Lbaoino  QujEsnoNS. 


entered,  and  siud  the  Mother  Superior  desired  my  company 
'  in  the  parlor.  With  a  palpitating  heart  and  my  nerves  all 
trembling  with  excitement,  I  walked  slowly  down  stairs,  in 
order  to  gain  time  for  the  recovery  of  i^  c'onrage,  and  by 
the  time,  I  reached  the  parlor  door,  I  felt  somewhat 
composed.        ^ 

I  found  the  Superior  alone.  •  *       ; 

" Sister »  said  »he,  "I  have  repented  of  my  display 

of  passion,  and  believe  it  to  have  been  unwarl-antable,  at 
least  as  &r^  you  are  concerned.  Will  you  deal  candidly 
with  me?"  '  v 

"  Madam,"  I  replied,  "  I  have  no  conceahnents  to  make." 

"  Did  not  the  Father  Confesspr  make  a  confession  of  love 
to  you?"  v^ 

"No,madam."    .  -    A 

"  Why  was  he  so  confused  when  I  entered  the  room  ^' 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  tell."  \ 

"  Do  you  not  suspect  him  of  loving  you  ?" 
.  "  I  have  no  right  to  suspect  him."    .         "* 

"  Have  you  no  ground  for  suspicion  ?"  , 

L-*^^»  madam,  told  me,  that  he  spoke  in  raptuifeff  of  my 
wit  and  beautj.'^      r*  /      . 

,     "True,I«d— but  I  supposed— no  matter.    You  ne6d 
not  confess  to  him  again." 

"Very  Veil,  madam."         . 

"  Are  you  content."  - 

-"  "I  am."       -^.^^^-^--J^^--4..----^^-^ ^....._^.^:,^__ 

"  You  do  not  regard  him  ?"      ^  "„, 

**  Yei^  ag  a  confessor.    TfAtM np  ^^^  v  r 


X 


'■'n^'- 


pany 

saU 

*%-::■• 

•s,  ia     . 

'-''■'  ' 

dby     . 

:    1 

rhat 

play 

■•■■■       ' 

'  '    Watchko'  to  thb  Last.  336 

"  "Would  you  swear  to  that  ?" 

"Ilwonid;  if  occasion  ceqoired.''   ,  , 

"l^ou  may  go  now.  Stay  a  momenil  Are  yoii  not 
lonesdme  ?'' 

"  Tfes,  madam.'' 

*'  "^^ou  may  sleep  with  Sister*  Agnes  to-night." 

"Yes,  madam.    Ttaffikyon." 

'*l!  will  go  to  her  room  with  you,"  saying  which,  the 
^uperior  led 'the  way,  and  I  followed  to  the  door  of  Sister 
Agneis's  room,  where  the  Superior  left  me.  She  went  to  the 
hea^f  theA stairs,  and  looked  back  suspiciously,. as  I  was 
closing  the  apor  after  me.      ^ 


^ 


^i^  I! 


■■«.i- 


' ./- 

• 

1 

•-  -,--'    -  x  '■ - 

-.^j 

—^—7-*— - 

':.■:* 

^. 


336 


Tell-Tale  Blushes. 


X: 


*■ 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  OaU  from  tlie  Archbishop— The  Ihterview  to  the  Oratory— The  Brll  Spirit  aad  tiie 
LoBt^Soul— PosseBsed  of  Sataili— The  Announcement  of  Freedom— The  Swoon— 
The  Recovery— My  Departure  with  Sister  Agiies— We  are  Free  once  more. 

IT  was  on  the  second  day  after  the  adventure  recorded  in 
the  last  chapter,  that  I  was  r^uested  to  go  to  the 
oratory,  where  the  Archbishop  desired  to  see  me.  I  made  a 
reverential  obeisance  as  I  e^itered,  and  placing  his  hand 
npon  my  head  he  gave  me  a/ blessing.  After  which,  taking 
my  hands  in  his,  fife  said,  *ja)anghter,  your  legal  friend  has 
been  urging  your  suit.'* 

"Yes,  father,"  said  t,  and  I  could  not  keep  th6^ tell-tale 
blushes  down,  as  I  thought  pf  Clarence  and  his  noWe 
devotion  to  me.  The  Archbishop  perceived  my  confusion, 
and  rightly  divined  the  cause.  ^    ^»  ^-^ 

"I  understand  it/  now,"  said  he  ;  '^you  were  not  called 
of  Heaven.  You/  vocation  is  of  the  world.  But  some- 
times Satan  provfes  the  conqueror,  and  since  you  will  not 
have  the  aid  of  6ur  all-powerful  intercession,  we  must  not 
endangeir  tlM  souls  of  others,  by  keeping  in  our  midst  a 
sinful  soul  that/has  the  Evil  Spirit  ever  h»7ering  round  it, 
^  ready  to  seize^poa  it»  when  utterly  abandoned  by  the  Holy 


/ 


.:^« 


V 


-,i^v 


The  Announcdiknt. 


337 


"Father  1"  I  cried  at  theSe  terrible  words— for  I  was 
still  something  of  a  slave  to  priestcraft,  "Father,  what 
shallljdo?" 

"  It  is  too  late,"  said  he,  «^oa  have  givfen  your  love  to 
man,  and  worship  him  rather  thkn  the  ever  Blessed  Virgin." 
.:   Iwas  silent.  '  ;  * 

"^<*^^^^jjj(l^emands  youi  liberty,  do  you  renounce 
Heaven  JjHjk  and  the  world  r 

"Oh,^^^l»  I  cried,  "I  can  pray  to  God,  and  our 
Blessed  Redeemer  in  my  closet,  and  they  will  hear  me.  The 
ever  Blessed  Virgin  will  not  close  Ker  ears  to  my  voice, 
»)ecause  it  d'oes  not  asceud  from  the  cloister  or  the  cell." 

"Mother  of  God  I"  exclaimeTi  the  Archbishop,  "Satan 
possesses  her  1"        ■         * 

I  "Oh  no,  father,  beUeve  it  not,"  I  criea~I  love  God  and 
bur  Saviour  so  much,  that  Satan,  whom  I  hate,  cannot 
come  near  me." 

The  Archbishop  seemed  to  be  struggling"  with  some 
tormenting  thought ;  he  paced  the  length  of  the  oratory 
back  and  forth,  with  rapid  strides— at  length  he  said, 
"  There  is  no  help  for  it.  To-morrow  night  you  are  to  leave 
this  plaRje.  You.  and  sister  Agnes.  You  wUl  go  as  you 
came,  in  a  carriage,  but  not  bandaged." 

"Where  io,  father?"  /  f  •  *^ 

"  To  the  house  of  your  friend." 

At  this  joyful  anflouncement,  my  feelings  overcame  me, 
and  I  sunk  back  against  the  wall,  where  I  was  sitting,  in  a 
Rwoon.    -^     '       '  . 


c 


■4 


T;sB  Human.  Saint. 

■ .       ^ '     '*      ..■".," 

blinding  ovet  m«f;^nd  cbafing  my  temples  With  their  j&ngers, 
dipped  in  water.    ). 

I  soon'recoTered  strength  enough  to  r§iu;h  %j  room, 
attenided  by  my  eyer-faithfol  Sister  Agnes. 

The  n^t'day  dragged  hflPkvily'  b^ — ^it  seemed  an  Woi 
T|ie  confessor  seht  for  me  in.  the  morning,  bat  I  ezcnsed 
mjseif  on   a   plea  pi  indisposition.  .  The   Superior/ w&8 ., 
e:^remely  agreeable  whenever  we  m6t.    She  appealed  toi\ 
rejoice  as  much  as  I  did,  at  the  prospect 't)f  my  departnrb.    | 

.     Sister  Agnes |md  myself  wei^  all  impatience,  a^d  in.thei 

,  eyening  we  listed  with  painfi|l  intentness  for  tht)  sound  of 

the  carria^  wheels.         '^-  '  '  -    *   ?     / 

*  We  Were  filled  with  ddtibts  and  apprehensic^n^  regarding 

thd  ancerity  of  the  Archbishop's  promise,  an4  •^qjq  lost  in 

^conjectures  as  to  the  causQS whid^Jed-to  bur  relief  from 

.  bondage.      '  *-^  »  '  '^ 

At  length,  however,  the  carriage  was  announced,'  aqd  we' 
were  accompanied  to-the  front  parlor  by  the  Superior,  where 
we  were^  introduced  to  a  priest  whom  we  had  never  seen 
before,  that  we  could  rememW..  H«(infqrmed  us,  that  he 
would,  accompany  us  to  the  house  of  bunfriend,  and  after 
taking  leave  of  the  Superior  we  proceeded  at  once  to  the 
carriage,  wMch  we  entered,  with  some  donbt^  and  fears  still 
haunting  oui^ihoughts.  /    \ 

The  priest  who  sat  opposite  to  Sister  Agn^  and  myself, 

'  addressed   merely    a  few   common-place   remarks   to  us 
occasionally,  and  assumed  very  much  the  manner  (»  a  human  . 

,  saint,  who  was  in  the  presence  of  two  incorrigible. mojosters, 
Whom  all ^e cruel  effortsof  a sinfiil host ^oTbishops,  priests 


*    '\\ 


/  • 


_i4- 


':^.:  :>■ 


Freb  ^oain. 


339 


v.and  nans,  liad  filled  to  save  from  thd  Jaba  of  the  wicked  -^    - 

'    w<irld.;  And  yet,  I  devoutly  beKeyed  that  my  prayers    v^. . 
came  fr<jm  as  pore  a  heart  as  ray  iiiiat  throbbed  beneath         ?  ^  S^ ' 
the  habit  dt  a  nan  or  the  robe  of  Spriest.    At  all  ev^,'*      ■       ' 
I  coujdnot  be  made  to  belieTte  that  arobe  or'a  ha^lt  can  '     i'      \' 
make  good  men  and  gbod  wonwn,r:opt  of  many  snch  priests    r    V     v    i 
and  nans  as  I  hittve,k6own.„  v        "^  :.     ^  ;         J 

.It  was  late,  bat  the  nmnerons  gat-lights  brilliantly  illami-         ;      7     • 
nated^the  streets)  and  once  t^cun  we  beheld  the  iosy   i 
^  world  wjth  its  throngs  of  ^  and  hpppy  people!  ^      ■ 


.  t, 


>Aj  . 


.•J  ■ 


Z^.- 


..jtfft^  ■ 


\ 


^mm 


«    0 


1       «       *t' 


* 


f  :^ 


•  V 


f ,' 


•    .« 


** 


''\^~' 


'    M 


•,^' 


^     -    •     : 
-•      1 

t 

-        •> 

.  * 

1  * 

* 

A      ■ 

t^^'S     '     ^ 

'■ 

• 

• 

tJfe 


■•^WiTOlgWWHWilS. 


340 


'iWS 


■;i  -  ;  \  ,,  ■ 

Letters  from  Home. 


:.'\: 


.r 


<  ■■■■■ 


CONCLUS'fON. 


Letters  from  Home— A  Dedactton— The  Mystery  explained— The  Ar^Miuep  and 
the  Law— The  Archbishop  and  the  People— The  Proposal— A  Weddiog— Qod  and 


Han. 


\.., 


I  MUST,  pass  hastily  crrer  minor  incidents,  in  the  concla- 
sion  of  my  narrative.  We  were  socm  in  the  presence  of 
Clarence  and  his  sisters,  who.  g^ye  ns  a  most  nearty 
welcome. 

The  priest  who  had.  accompanied  ns,  did  not  leave.' the 
carriage,  bat  ordered  the  driver  to  return  to  the  Convent. 

Clarence,  daring  my  absence,  had  received  from  my 
father  and  sisters  several  letters,  which  were  written  in  a  ' 
more  conciliatory  and  kindlier  spirit  tlian  any  I  had  ever 
received  from  them.  I  conld  very  easily  divine  the  reason 
of  my  father's  yielding  temper.  The  tenor  of  the  letter 
from  Clarence,  tonching  the  sabject  of  my  ma^iage,  and 
the  affectionate  interest  which  he  evidently  felt  in  my  wel- 
fare, were  coupled  together  by  my  shrewd  parent,  and  a . 
dedaction  was  drawn  therefrom,  Which  led  to  the  conclnsion 
that  a  wedding  wonld  grow  oat  of  the  friendship  formed 
between  Clarence  and  myself. 

.  When  Adelaide  had  finished  her  household  duties,  on  tiie 
morning  afte;  my  return,  she  explained  away  the  mystery 


•f 


\ 


'  ■&     i 


-  t- 


.i 


.  \ 


•M 


y       Bf 


SUPEWOR    TO    THE    LaWS.  341 

attending  my  liberation  from  the  Convent,  as  nearly  as  I 
can  remember,  in  the  foUowing  words  :^ 

"Yonr  protracted  absence,  my  dear  L_;on  the  day 
of  y«nr  departure  with  the  yile  woman  who '  so  grossly 
deceived  us  all,  gi^atly  alartned  ns  ;  and  when  night  oame 
on,and  still  yon- did, not  make  yonr  appearance,  we  were 
fiU^  with  the  most  cmel  apprehensions.    Clarence  was  wild 
with  e^jilement,  he  imagined  1.  thousand  evils  j  he  accused 
the  Jesuits,  the  Bishop,  the  nmis  of  haying  decoyed- you  . 
mto  their  snares,  and  vowed  that^he  would  restore  yoU  to 
freedom,  or  faU  himself  a  victim  to  their  mabce. 

"  He  did  not  sleep  a  moment  during  the  whole  night,  and 
as  soon  as  morning  dawned,  accouipanied  by  a  friend  he 
went  directly  to' the  residence  of  the  Archbishop,  and 
mformed  him  of  his  suspicions  respecting  your  abduction.       ^ . 

"The  Archbishop  assumed  an  air  of  offended  dignity 
«»d  angrily  denied  that  he  was  cognisant  of  your  absence' 
from  home;  but  Clarence- was  not  to  be  driven  from  the 
^  field.   He  held  up  the  law  as  a  teWor  to  the  high  digqitary 
but  the  ArchbishDp,  with  cahn  eflfrontery,  told  him  that  he    ' 
held  m  his  grasp  «ie  fortunes  of  those  who  made  the  jaws 
and.  that  they  would  not  dare  to  attempt  an  enforcement  0/ 
any  lav  of  the  hind  which  was  obnoxious  to  him.    I  know 
not  how  it  is,  but  Claremie  tells  me'  it  is  inSged  too  true 
that  this  proud  priest  had  uttered  the  truth,  and  that  he 
felt  It  in  aU  its  potential  force  j  bat  he  tells  me  that  having     ^ 
studied  tiie  history  of  poUtics  for  the  past  few  years,  and  =-- 
having  had  occasion  to  watch  the  course  of  this  intriguing 
priest,  he  knew  that  there  was  onk  powbr  before  which 


..  '  <: 


.'■    -y 


342^ 


The  /  Peoplib. 


'N 


*  Archbishop  had  always  qiailed,  and  that  power  was  Thi 
People,  with  their  intelligence,  their  patriotism,  and  thett 
honesty.  .  / 

*  "\The  Peopk, '  then  exclaimed  Ctwreuce,  '  shall  be  appealed 
to  ;  ihe  public  square  shall  be  the  forum  from  which  I  shall 
speak  to  the  millions  ;  ani  that  jtortion  of  the  public  pr^ss. 
which  breathes  the  nationlal  spii^t,  will  echo  the  cry  of  "an 
AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  A«  BOMi&H  PRISON  I"  until  the  deafening 
shouts  of  a  nation's  native  sons  shall  shalce  to  earth  the 
prison  walls  that  girdle  her/abqut.  1  go,  to  invoke  tJiA 
spirit  of  the  peopU^  cried  01arence  as  he  moved'  towards 
the  door.     'Stay,  stay  1'  exclaimed  .the  trembling  pri^ ; 

.'you  iae  rashj  be  not  hasty,  I  will  see  if  your  suspiciQus 
are  well  grounded.    I  pron^e  you,  indeed,  that  lio  harm 

'  shall  happen  to  the  ^1,  ifl)y  any  ch^^  she  has  strayed 
among  my  people.  This  is  sudden,  ra^fm^t  sir;  a  little  time 
is  needed.    I  will  inquire  toniay  at  our  several  houses  in 

the  city.'  J    y 

" ' See  that  you  do  thin,'  8«ud Clarence,  'and  let  me 
know  by  night,  or  by  th6  power  that  made  me  I  will  make 
the  city  ring  with  this  f<dal  wrongs'  ;    . 

"  True  "to  his  pipmisei  "the  cheering  word  was  brought 
from  the  Archbishop  thajt  you  were  safe,  and  that,  in  a  few 
days,  you  should  be  restored  to  us. 

♦*  The  Cause  of  the  delfiy  was  not  explained  to  us,  but  Cla- 

fence  thinks  that  a  feeliiig  of  pride  would  not  allow  them  to 

^^eliver  you  up  in  so  short  a  time  after  the  demand,  as  to 

make  it  appear  that  they  wete  seriously  alarmed,  and  set 

yoti  free  on  absolute  compnlsiim, . 


«»!?■ 


»    ■' 


,  ■>  - 

f  -; '  — 


Mt'  Mabbugk. 


*' 


>  '  \ 
\ 


843 


*'  But  Clarence  persevered,  and  now  that  you  are  restored 
to,  us  again,  you  must  promise  never  to^eave  us  more." 
"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  how  can  I  promise  that  ?" 
"  Why,  my  dear  friend,  by  promising  that  you  will  take 
my  noble  brother  as  your  legal  protector,  your  'able  coun- 
sel,* and  your  lawful  husband."^  --—— — 

Ther^  wmpASa^i^j  wedding  party  at  the  residence  of  Cla- 
renc6^^^<Jut  a  month  subsequent*  to  the  conversation  held 
ab(>^  ind  sisters  Agnesy  Adelaide,  and  MatUda  were  my 
lovely  bridesmaids. 


.'"      ■'•■  ■■' "   ■■■' '  /■ 

God,  in  his  inanite  goodness,  has  given  us  a  beautiful 
world  as  our  temporal  abode.    He  has  bestowed  upon  us, 
from  the  abundance  of  h^  store,  aU  things  that  it  is  meet  wrf 
should  have.    He  has  given  us  the  glorious  sun  and  the. 
moon,  and  the  stars^hejias  poured  into  the  lap  of  nature 
the  germs  of  innumerable  and  deUcious  fruits  to  please  the 
taste,  and  the  seeds  of  myriads  of  lovely  flowers  to  please  the 
eye;— his  gifts  arfe  countless,  and  he  has  endowed  us  with  fa- 
culties which  were  given  us  that  we  might  enjoy  those  gifts  j 
but  man  has  sought  to  pervert  the  purposes  of  "Him  who 
doeth  all  things  well,"  and  to  impose  upon  his  fellpwt  crea- 
tures,  laws  which  outrage  those  of  God.    Man  in  his  arro- 
gance, and  for^d  purposes,  has  set  at  naught  the  natural 
laws  of  God,  and  has  substituted  in  their  stead  the  "  Canon 
I<ftwg "  of  a  fiftrmn^  priesthood  lawg  which  aw?  irratiomd 


■  i 


<  -\. 


'J  i\ 


t^p 


844 


God  and  Man. 


oppressive,  Lfal,  and  demoralizing.  The  great  and  glo- 
nous,  the  b^ght  and  beautiful  world  is  a  creation  of  God's 
The  pure,  fe  free,  the  life^ying  air  of  heaven  was  made 
to  breathe  i  the  genial  warmth  of  the  sun,  the  hght  of  the 
moon,  and /the  gflvery  rays  beaming  down  upon  us  from  the 
^  Wed  skies,  w«re  given  us  for  our  good,  and  they 
T?»ro  desicfned  for  our  use  an^  our  enjoyment. 

The  CONVENT  is  a  tiling  of  man's  creation,  a  dark  and 
dreary  friud,  that  gives  the  Ue  to  God,  and  impiously  ignores 
His  handworks.  Enclosed  by  lofty  walls,  it  seems  a  thing 
apart  fr^m  earth,  as  though  ashamed  to  gaze  with  honest 
eyes  u^on  the  loveliness  and  glory  of  the  world-a  dread 
and  terrible  abode  for  guilty  souls  who  flee  to  darkness  and 
mysterious  shades,  as  to  a  veil  whose  folds  wiU  hide  their 
deep  remorse,  their  sins  and  shame. 


THE  END. 


Hli 

», 

Ohar 
pren 

e 

7, 

^ 

'.-     '-.^ 

The 
Oreri 

■  .MnsB. 

In" 
•ndgr 
andth 
nsefkU 

■( 


*>. 


•t^.^K'ft         ■  \'.»sf'sn."" 


\ 


■'\ 


%        I 


/  '  ■ 


/       lea  &  162  NASSAU  STEEET, 
fraute  tn  roitoinMa« 

THREE  GREAT  4NTI-CATH0LIC  WORK& 


FATHER  GAVAZZl'S  LECTURES 


VX  NEW  TOBK. 


^ 


"^  THE  LIFE  OF  FATHER   QAVAZZT, 

ttmaelf  aPtfest,  he  la  oogntaint  of  the  vices  and  abme.  that  ezlit  ta  «..  ».  .  k 
Ohorci..  and  doe.  not  fear  to  expo«,  them  at  the  ha«rd  of  hi  Hfe  ^1^,1^^^^ 
PreM  speak  of  hto  Lectores  In  enthoslasUo^rmi.  ^  "*  *"•• 

"■.  — /'♦■ ^   ■  '         -,' 

;  BEjAfTRICE;  ^ 

QB,   THB.  UNKHOWir  BBIAUVBS.  M 

Br  mss  SIKOLAIB.  - 

^e  mort  Ibrmldable  opponent  of  Homanism  that  the  Ohurehhae  had  fhta  «».*«, 
On^riO^copteshaveheensold.    «« eneonUunui  of  the preta  wo^Au  r^^*^' 

''''*'^^<»I'eUer  from  Reo.ir.  Murray  ithtc^ 
Maaaas.  Di  Witt  k  Datkkpokt  :  ELBABiiHWwjr,  feb.  1st,  1«B. 

•nd  this  it  does  with  grelt  tratWU^  and  eflfe^  if  oY?n«t^.7?^  **'  the  Jesuits, 
«.fU  to  aldtag  to  remore  from  the  w^f^^t  J^°of  h^^I^^pfi"  '"•«"J' 

%  -:;:ii  HELEN  MULGRAVE  i 

OB,    JEiVlT   BZEOTTTOBSHIP 
.  AW  AOTOBIOOBAPHT  OF  A  TOUNG  LADY,  A  8E0EDKR  TOOM  IwMANlSM. 

Priee,inpap«r,eOett.,-  tiloanatt. 

niiiill(uj.u.iwuidiin„,,uMfl.^  nit«IH«Td««»lMloiiofMtal,..«i 


'V^ 


« 


.»'^#' 


;# 


m.  3$iDii|iit'<  (CtUlmaUi'  Wtta 


/^ 


At  noTeli  of  qoletlmmori  glbiUna  pathoi,  and  rlohnan  ud  tirMneH  ofdawirlpUoa, 
If  n.  If  oodle'i  Worki  hare  ao4i)lnd  a  repntatton  wbieh  will  endear  them  to  eTeiry  lorw 
of  the  beautlftil  uid  trnthftil  In  nature.  ''  ' 

By  epeclal  arrangement  with  Mra^  Hoodie  we  are  now  the  lole  i^Uihen  ilf  her 
woilcs  in  Amerk)*.    Her  Ufe-Hlatory  ii  contained  in  the  following  worlu. 


FLORA  LYNDSAY;         ri^- 

,   PA88AO^B  IV  AH  EVEHTTUL  lit B,  ^^  ." 
Friee,  inpapm',  60  et$.f  aeoanOy  hound  in  oMft,  70  «te.  ""  ' 

Those  who  langhed  and  oriad  while  In  Imagination  they  were  **Songhlng  It  In  the 
Boah  »  with  Mrs.  Hoodie  will  take  np  with  eagerness  this  flotlen,  which  is  in  Cact,  under 
an  assameja  name,  an  antoblography  of  her  own  erentfU  life  prior  to  her  seeking  a  new 
home  In  Atnerica,  and  also  a  rlTld  and  thrilling  deseriptlon  of  events  that  transpired  in 
a  long  and periloas  Toyage orer  the  Atlantic— PMtaoefpMa Bcmrday  Xoumlng Fott,^ 

All  who  have  read  "-Booghing  it  in  the  Bosh  "  will  be  sore  to  lo<dc  with  eager  onriosilsr 
Into  the^nages  of  "mora  undsey"  and  be  repaid  by  the  perusal  of'a  dellghtftil  story.— 

This  new  work  of  Hrs.  Hoodle'a  is  tml/'a  dellghtftd  one.— iilMton- Jfiifl. 


R-QUGHING   IT  IN   THE   BUSH, 

~  Elegantly  bonnd  in  doth,  prioetl' 00. 

Urs.  Hoodie's  descriptions  of  flrontier  life  have  nerer  been  surpassed.— ^BmCok  TUnm. 

Hrs.  Hoodie  stands  m  the  front  rank  of  able  female  writers,  and  we  oordlaUy  reeom* 
mend  "  Boui^g  it  In  the  Bnsh  "  to  our  readers.— ^Uo»  OouHer. 

It  is  written  In  a  beautiftU,  simple  B^le,  truthful  and  lifelike,  with  fliat  peculiar  fesdnat- 
Ing  manner  and  dry,  quiet  humor  that  is  so  peculiarly  her  own.— PAito.  OhHMan 


LIFE  IN  THE   CLEARINGS  vs.    THE  BUSH. 

Moe,  in  paper,  fiO  eti. ;  elegantly  bonnd  in  doth,  76  eti. 

'^  I  have  been  repeatedly  asked,  since  the  publication  of  "Bonghlng  It  In  the  Bush," 
to  give  an  account  of  the  present  state  of  society,  and  to  point  out  its  Increasing  pros- 
perity and  commeroial  adrantages ;  but  statistics  are  not  my  forte,  nor  do  I  feel  myself 
qualified  for  such  an  arduoTU  and  important  task.  Hy  knowledge  Is  t<to  limited  to  enable 
me  to  write  a  comprehenslTo  worie  on  a  suhfeot  of  Tital  consequence,  which  might  luTtdTe 
the  happiness  of  others.  But  what  I  do  know  I  will  endeavour  to  sketohinth  •  light 
pencil ;  and  if  I  cannot  convey  much  useftd  Infbrmation,  I  will  tiy  to  amuse  the  reader ; 
and  Jaj  a  mixture  of  prose  and  poetry  compile  a  small  volume,  which  may  bdp  to  while 
away  an  idle  hour,  or  fill  np  the  blanks  of  a  wet  day."— ^utAor*  Pr^ftioeip(«tu[^  Beady]. 


MA  RK    HURDLE  S TO NE  ;  - 

_».  ..4^  ,U-  OB.  IHE  TWO  BB0IBEB8. 

We  advise  all  who  get  Uiis  book  not  to  take  it  np  late  In  the  evening,  for  they  viU  be  ■ 
sure  to  spend  the  jJMit  in  reading  It.   It  Is  lmpossV>le  to  leave  ol^  so  bonying  and  In* 


l!he  work  before  OS  lBj|.one  of  the  most  p<)werftU  everpuMlshed  byawnnafufWltf 
deep  meaning,  of  stem  intiu,  and  pure  morally.- /\>r(«»io«M  (IT.  M)  JtmmdL 


f*- 


'''^^ 


GREAT  KAWOiriL  WORK. 
OIT.HAHD  TAKDfOS;  OE;  CRAYON  SKBTCEES 

Of  THE  NOTICWABUI  MEN  0?  OUR  AOB. 


61  GEORGE 

country,  and  of  the  men  who  have  h 

S?*t  th-*^  tollowJng  UU  are  handl^  p, 
**J^"  i!*''?  treatment  they  get  tadeM 

grared  on  Steel,  In  the  finest  atyle  of  the  ai 


BUNGAY. 


Daniel  Webster.    ^  "' 

Henry  CBay. 

fl^'n  p.  Ohapin  (portrait). 
John  Oharlei  Fremont. 
G.  P.  Morris  and  N.  P.  WllHg 
Wm.  H.  Seward  (portrait).- 
fdw.  Everett  (portrait). 

Joto  P.  Hale  (portrait). 

Father  T^rlor. 

John  O.  Oalhoun. 

Lewis  Oass. 

Charles  0.  Borleigh. 

H.  Ward  Beecher  (portrait, 

Abbot  Lawrence. 

Balph  Walde  Emerson. 

J.  Van  Buren  (portrait). 

John  Oreenleaf  WhitUer. 

Washington  Irving. 

O.  W.  Bethune. 

E.  P.  Whipple. 

6. 0.  Hebbe  (porfiaU). 

Ruflu  Ohoate. 
Horace  Mann. 
Dr.  Rwrdman. 


ktnUv bmtndtn oloUi.  PHoetlBO. 

fil^**^.^'"""*"  ''•'»  '■  Vfoad  of  his 
■^  that  country  honored  abroad  by 

[  ^:,  Though  some  of  the  per- 

!i^fgf,  we  thhik  most  persons  will  allow 


s> 


ihed  with  Nineteen  Portraits,  en- 


Solon  Robinson  (portrait.) 
Joho  Ross  Dix. 
P.  T.  Barnum  (portrait). 
Dr.  £.  Kane.  ' 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 
Samuel  F,  B.  Morse. 
Oeo.  W.  Kendall.       * 

Kea*?"*-'*'*")- 

W.  Thackeray. 
John  Pierpont. 
Horace  Greeley  (portrait). 
George  N.Brlggs.  ' 

Theodore  Park^. 

Spr^tt"")- 

Charles  Sumner.  -■' 

Ogden  Hofltaian  (portrait). 
Thomas  Francis  Meagher. 
WendeU  PhuTps.  •  * 
Elihu  Burritt. 

«  "*:  9-*,*I''*"*  (portrait). 
Daniel  8.  Dickinson. 
General  WImfleld  Scott 


( Gerrit  Smith  n>6rtrait). 
I  EdwardBeecher. 

gios.  H.  Benton  (portrait). 

Wm.  Ii.  Marcy. 

Alflred  Bnnn. 

Peter  Oartwrlght. 

Anson  Burlingame. 

Dr.  S.  H.  Co* 

Ftreeman  Hunt 

B.  p.  ShiUaber. 

Bishop  James. 

Rev.  Mr.  Wadsworth.        * 

Rev.  Dr.  Durbin. 

8.  A.  Douglas  (portrait). 

W.  Gilmore  Simms. 

James  Gordon  Bennett 

Caleb  Oushlng. 

*»">">  Wa^hWebb.       , 

Dr.  DnflldflHM^ 

John  MitohK^rtralti. 

And  often. 


OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS 

figures.    HewriteslikeamanwhoIsftSy^deawakK/^^.r^**'?.""''''''  """t^* 

witfi  an  independent,  fearlesSpeSi^JlJtrfa™?'"*  '^*''  P"""*"-;  He  writes 
.^VWritten  m  a  spirited  ..f^^hSJ  ggrpre^beU-drawn  and  characteristic 

-aaTd^a^--^'^^^^^  .ad  are  ^commonl. 


•rapuve  b«*.  both  In  IntteSr^ffi,:^  S!?Le7er%^"*  X?^^^^^^ 

•  M^'TT  A  DAVENPORT,  Publishers, 

^-7-     -i  f--—  Nos.  160  and  1«2  Nassau  St 


DE  tlTf  11)1  VE|f PORT, 

PUBUSHilRS,    BOOKSELLERS, 


AND 


^Wholesale  and  Retail 

iDaE^iLERs  iqsr    BOOKS 

CHEAP  PUBLICATIONS,  PERIODICALS, 
-  AMERICAN  AND  FOREIGN^ 


APERS. 


160    &    163 r  NASSAU    STREET,    NEW    YORK. 


D.  *  D.  would  cespectftilly  call  the  attenaon  of  the  Trade  to  their  nnequidled  facilitlei' 
for  filling  and  forwarding  aU  Orders  for  Books,  Magasines,  Cheap  Publications,  News-  • 
papers,  &c.,  at  the  publishers' lowest  prices. 

, ,  Pealers  will  find  It  to  their  Interest  to  have  their  orders^ckod  at  our  Gatablishment,  as 
wewUllpclose  la  our  package  (without  extra^  charge),  anything  efse  they  may  have  io 
receive  from  New  York,  so  that  it  wUl  reach  them  without  extra  freight. 

D.  &  D.  (fcnoUay  that  they  wUl  supply  Books,  Ac,  in  advance  of  any  other  house,  but 
wiU  abide  hfM*  universal  decision  of  theh:  customers,  that  the  promptness  with  which 
their  orders  are  always  despatched,  is  of  Itself  a  sufficient  guarantee  that  they  cannot  b« 
beat.  ♦ 


*.:■  .t.  Just  Published. 

.'/  A  NEW  WORK  BV  rev.  EDWII?  H.  CHAPIN^ 

1  vol.,  mno.    Clothf  Price  $1. 

HUMANITY    IN  THE  CITY. 

BEINCr  A  SERIES  OF  DI800UBSES  RBOENTLT  DELiySRED  IN  NEW  YORK. 


I.— TBI  Lnsovs  OF  TRB  Stbbr. 
II.— Max  AMD  Hachimbrt. 

III.— STUTB  for  PRBCBDEaiCR. 

IV.— Tbb  Stmbou  or  thb  Rbpubuo. 


v.— Thb  Sprirgs  op  Bocial  Lipb. 
TI.— Tub  Aixibs  op  tub  Te^rtBR. 
VII.— Thb  Ohiidrbm  fip  thb  Poor. 
Vin.— Thb  HEI.P  OP  RouQioN. 


EXTRACT  FROM  THE  PREFACE. 
"  This  volume  aims  at  applying  the  highest  standard  of  Morality  andWligton  to  the 

g bases  of  every-d^y  life.  In  order,  however,  that  thb  view  with  which  these  discourses 
ave  been  prepared  may  not  be  misconceived,  I  wish  merely  to  say,  that^I  am  far  from 
supposing  these  are  the  only  themes  to  be  preached,  or  that  they  constitute  the  hlghestdass 
of  practical  snlijects,  and  shall  be  sorry  if,  in  any  way,  they  seem  tqJ|mply  a  ncgledTof 
that  interior  and  holy  life  which  is  the  spring  not  only  of  right  affeotloSr,  but  of  clear  per- 
cepUon  and  sturdy  every-day  duty.  I  hope,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  ver>  aspects  of 
this  busy  city  life— the  very  problems  which  start  out  of  it— will  tend  to  convince  men  of 
tbtfnecessity  of  this  inward  and  regenerating  principle.  Nevertheless,  I  malntaitt  that 
these  topics  have  a  place  In  the  circle  of  the  preacher^s  work,  and  he  need  entertain  no 
fear  of  desecrating  bis  pulpit  by  secular  themes  who  seeks  to  consecrate  all  things  In  any 
way  involving  the  astlon  and  welfare  of  men,  by  the  spirit  and  the  alms  of  Uisulleligion 
who,  while  he  preached  the  Gospel,  fed  the  hungry  and  healed  the  sick,  aAd  todbhed  the 
issues  .of  every  temporaUwinl.  I  may  have  failed  In  the  method,  I  trust  IhaVenotic 
the  pwpose."  a    ^ 


RT. 


f^' 


SIS 


4 


onu. 


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ton  to  the 
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I  determined  to  go  to  the  convent  they  had  selected  for  me, 
but  not  without  an  effort  to  secure  the  companionship  of 
Sister  Agnes.  '  *^ 

"  Only  on  one  condition  could  I  be  induced,"  said  I, 


'  Name  it." 


'  "^-fflv* 


"  That  Sister  Agnes  shall  accompany  me.'^ 

•■  She  has  consented  on  the  same  Condition." 

".When  do  you  wish  us  to  go  7^ 

"To-night;^       ,  V     ,  .     ,    ^ 

M  Well,  I  consent."        *  '     ' 

f-     "  But  we  have  our  conditions  also." 

"  What  are  they  rv  ^        '        '  * 
"That  you  go  peaceably,  and  have  a  handkerchief  tied 
,  over  your  moutbr,  and  another  over  your  eyes.     There  is 
nothkig  pamfid  in  it,  and  our  safety  requires  the  precan- 
tion>         .                            ..     ,'   '              .         , 
"IisOMftnt-W  1'     '       '  •  '         ■    ■  '        '■    -V-  "" 


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